


Deck the Halls (but not your family)

by beggarscantbchoosers



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gen, Jewish!Zo, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Religion, Student!Nico, Swearing, Zo is team mum, can't believe I forgot that one first time around I'm sorry, implied past drug abuse, like at all I still haven't watched S3, policeman!Zo, who knows what Vanessa's doing with her life not me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 32,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beggarscantbchoosers/pseuds/beggarscantbchoosers
Summary: “You know,” Leo drawled from the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to better watch Zo dress. “for someone who keeps reminding us all that he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, you seem to be getting rather into the spirit of things.”A thirty(-one) days fic about the festive season. That's... Literally it.





	1. Getting the Decorations Down

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I hate long author's notes so real quick:  
> I initially wrote this last year, didn't get around to posting it because Christmas is HECTIC, dug it out again this year, tweaked it a bit and decided to post. I'm aiming for each chapter to be posted on each day but, I mean, HECTIC. Plus I'm working most days of the month and anyway. We'll see.
> 
> Since Jewish!Zo is my jam and my canon I've tried to include that but my family is v CoE so I'm not exactly an expert. I've done my research and I've left it mostly at references rather than trying to explain anything in depth just to be on the safe side but if anyone has anything to add/improve, or has any concerns please let me know. That also goes for the Catholicism since, still CoE over here. Ultimately this is supposed to be a feel good, happy fluff fic, and I want everyone who reads it to enjoy it. On which note I'm out of practice at tagging so... Hmu if there are any major ones I should add I guess? There are no warnings, anyway, this is happy. It's all happy all the time thank you and goodnight.
> 
> And happy holidays!

“Shit!” There was a series of loud thumps and bangs from somewhere upstairs, followed by a veritable storm of cursing, the speaker making his way through at least four languages. Niccolò Machiavelli, sat at the kitchen table with a mass of textbooks, annotated photocopies of critical articles, and an almost-blank word document spread out in front of him, didn’t even look up from his studies.

“You okay?” He called, instead, turning the page of the article he was reading, humming to himself as he highlighted yet another likely-looking quote. Twenty-one, and in his last year of undergrad, he had assignments due before the end of term, and he’d finished exactly none of them. Two weeks to go.

“Peachy fuckin’ keen!” A deep voice called back, and Nico snorted.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” He murmured, sighing to himself and dropping the sheaf of paper back on the table. He wasn’t actually working, anyway. He stretched out – arched his back, grimacing at the sound of grinding bone, rotated his wrists and clenched his fingers until they cracked – and got to his feet with another sigh. “I’m coming up!” He called, from the bottom of the stairs, earning himself a grunt of acknowledgement. He began to climb, stifling a snort of amusement at the sight of a cardboard box, clearly dropped from the open loft hatch, tipped onto its side. Tinsel spilled from the open flap, like the guts of some great, festive monster, and Nico hopped up onto the bottom rung of the slightly rickety ladder hooked into the loft hatch, peering up into the dimly lit space above him. The ladder creaked, warningly, and Nico pursed his lips. At five foot six, Nico wasn’t a particularly large man – really still more of a boy, in a lot of ways – even factoring in the slight layer of pudge around his middle, the baby fat in his cheeks that he tried his best to _not_ be self-conscious about. The man in the loft was considerably larger; if the ladder was so reluctant to hold _Nico’s_ weight, it was lucky that the only casualty so far appeared to have been the box of tinsel. “What are you _doing_ up there?” He asked, bewildered.

“Gettin’ the Christmas decorations down.” Came the grumble of a reply. “Leo insisted. Said that it’s the first, and…” A pause, and then a dark head dropped out of the loft hatch, dark, shaggy curls surrounding a face flushed red with exertion and the effect of gravity, blood rushing to his head. “and that you’d appreciate it.” He pulled a face, looking rather put out. “Was meant to be a surprise, but I dropped a box.” He said, mournfully.

“Zo…” Nico trailed off, face softening with affection; he hopped up another rung on the ladder and leant in to press a fondly grateful kiss to the man’s mouth. “Thank you,” He said, gently. “It was a nice thought, but please let me help.”

“Nah, let him suffer.” A third voice called from the bedroom, and Nico narrowed his eyes, leaning sideways to glower.

“ _Leo_.” He said, warningly, and just got a laugh in return. With his blond curls, round face and wide, blue-green eyes, Nico was a lot of things… But intimidating was not one of them. “Leo!” He protested, and then glanced upwards at Zo, who grinned.

“I’ll get him, don’t you worry.” He winked, and pulled himself back up into the loft; Nico hopped back off the ladder, stepping back to admire the view as Zo climbed down, emerging from the hatch inch by glorious inch. Over half a foot taller than Nico, broad shouldered, with the build of a brawler and the swagger to match, Zoroaster – _Zo –_ grinned wolfishly, cracking his knuckles as he approached on their third.

“Aw, c’mon, I was only joking!” Leonardo da Vinci was not much shorter than Zo, but he was less well built, slender like a dancer or a gymnast; he tried to dodge, but there was nowhere to go – Zo cornered him by the wardrobe in their shared bedroom, dragging Leo into a headlock and ruffling his dark hair – long enough to tie back into a messy bun – mercilessly.

“Stop, stop!” Leo laughed, squirming, and Nico stood smugly in the doorway watching them, arms crossed as he leant against the doorframe. Zo flashed him a roguish wink, still grinning. Without the blood rushing to his head, his skin was a dark, ruddy gold, a testament to his Judeo-Turkish parentage. His jaw was hidden beneath a short beard, grown out over the course of the previous month – it suited him, and Nico was hoping to persuade him to keep it even now that No Shave November was over, though Leo kept complaining about beard burn, despite the fact that he, too, sported a thick layer of stubble across his own jaw, albeit more out of laziness than anything else. Nico, meanwhile, was completely incapable of growing more than an embarrassing layer of fuzz across his top lip, like a teenager, and barely even had to shave. It always made him feel very young in comparison to the other two – though, in moments like this, watching the two of them roughhouse like children, he felt like the most mature one in the house.

“So, decorations?” He said, hopefully, when Leo gave up on trying to squirm free and decided that _distracting_ Zo into letting him go was the better option.

“Yes!” Leo chirped, delightedly, hazel eyes going wide with excitement – Nico got the feeling the artist’s insistence on getting the decorations out so soon wasn’t, actually, for Nico’s benefit at all. “The tree, and the lights – and I think we have streamers, somewhere…” Zo was shaking his head, good-naturedly, letting go of Leo, who had lost all interest in their play fight in favour of sparkly things, as Nico had expected he would.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Nico asked, quietly, stepping in close to Zo whilst Leo, still babbling with excitement, darted out onto the landing and up the creaky ladder.

“Nah, I’m happy if you two’re happy.” Zo said, slinging an arm around Nico’s shoulders and drawing him in, pressing a kiss to blond curls. “If Leo wants lights, and baubles, and fuckin’ streamers everywhere, then let him have ‘em.”

“And presents?” Nico said, slyly, looking up from his lashes; Zo let out a huff of laughter, leant down to kiss Nico full on the mouth, gentle and tender.

“Have we ever passed up on an opportunity to spoil you, sweetheart?” He teased. “Of course there’ll be presents.” Nico smiled, pleased and smug with it. Out on the landing, there was a series of thuds, a high-pitched yelp.

“I’m okay!” Leo shouted, and Zo let out a sigh.

“Better go save him from himself.” He muttered, pulling Nico back in for another slow, lazy kiss.

“C’mon,” Nico said, pushing Zo back, gently. “I want to put the angel on the tree!” He grinned, wickedly, and darted out onto the landing. Zo glanced heavenwards, shaking his head again, unable to keep the fond smile off his face as he followed.


	2. Christmas Shopping

“That’s… Quite the list you’ve got there.” Zo glanced up at his companion, who was watching him with an uncertain expression on her pretty face. Despite the exhaustion caused by spending most of her time running around after a small child – evidenced by the bags under her eyes and the way she cradled her gaudy, Christmas-themed paper cup of coffee close – Vanessa Moschella was still ethereally beautiful. Her mass of long, strawberry blonde curls was pinned up into a loose, messy bun, and she wore very little make-up – citing it as unnecessary for a day spent navigating crowded shops. The first Saturday of December was _always_ hectic, though admittedly, not as hectic as it would get closer to Christmas.

“Yeah well,” Zo shrugged, casually, flashing the young woman a slightly sheepish smile. “Leo and me kept thinkin’ of things for Nico, and what with that big commission Leo just got, we can afford to spoil him a bit.”

“Zo,” Vanessa said, elfin features twisted up into a bemused smile. “that list is longer than the one I have for Giulio, and he’s _two_.”

“Well, there’s other stuff on here too.” Zo countered, gesturing at his list. “Stuff for Leo, stuff for Andrea, stuff for me uncle… Oh, and stuff for our favourite nephew, of course.” He grinned and winked at Vanessa, who merely rolled her eyes, hiding her fondly indulgent smile in her cup.

“Well, don’t spoil Giulio _too_ much,” She said, hooking her free hand through the crook of Zo’s arm to keep them from getting separated in the crowds. “He has enough toys already, and heaven knows Lorenzo will probably buy him a shedload more.” She sighed. “I really hope he and Clarice have a son of their own soon,” She said, in a low, confidential tone, as they headed into the first shop on Zo’s extensive list. “then he can spoil his own brat instead of buying mine all kinds of sports equipment he won’t be able to use for _years_.”

“As if Giuliano’s any better,” Zo scoffed, easily clearing a path through the busy shop with his bulk. “I remember the baby motorbike.”

“I thought that was cute,” Vanessa said, voice haughtily indignant. “Giulio keeps saying he wants to be like his daddy.”

“You think _everything_ Giuliano does is cute,” Zo pointed out, trying not to laugh. “You’re biased as fuck, sweetheart.”

“You’re one to talk,” Vanessa drawled, tugging lightly on Zo’s arm to guide him into the kid’s section – Giulio needed more trousers, and maybe she could persuade Zo to buy her son _sensible_ clothes instead of the elaborate – and often _loud_ – toys and gaudy outfits he would inevitably be getting from the rest of his extended family. “I lived with Nico for three years, remember – I know for a _fact_ he is not the sweet, precious angel you make him out to be.”

“Nico is a precious cherub,” It was Zo’s turn to be indignant, and he turned his mouth down into a pout, protective as ever of those he loved. “alright, kid gets a bit lippy sometimes, and sure, he has a temper, but…”

“He’s a spoilt _brat_ ,” Vanessa said, and only the clear affection in her tone kept Zo from getting even more sullen about the slight to his boyfriend. “and neither you _nor_ Leo help matters on that front.” She said, pointedly, raising her eyebrows and nodding in the direction of Zo’s list, which he quickly squirreled away in the back pocket of his jeans, shoulders raised slightly, defensive.

“Yeah, well.” Zo muttered, scanning the racks of brightly coloured children’s clothing to avoid making eye contact – he knew she was right. “Neither Leo or I really had much growing up, did we? Ain’t a surprise we want to spoil those we love now that we _do_.” He glanced up at her from beneath loose, dark curls, brown eyes wide and sad. It wasn’t just Nico who had mastered the kicked puppy expression.

“Oh, _Zoroaster_.” Vanessa sighed, pressing in closer. “How _cruel_ of you, to do this to me.” She wrinkled her nose. “You _know_ I can’t stay annoyed when you pull the sad little orphan boy card.”

“I know,” Zo grinned, brightening abruptly, the morose mood falling away like the act it had been. “that’s why I do it.” He winked, and pulled a hideous Christmas jumper off the rack, beaming with delight when he realised that it not only lit up, but also _played music_.

“Please, no.” Vanessa groaned, imagining how excited Giulio would be, and how annoyed she would get within the first half hour of being forced to listen to the tinny rendition of “Jingle Bells” on repeat. Zo, with all the mischief of an over-indulgent uncle who gets to hand out noisy presents and then _leave_ , ignored her, and shoved it in his basket.


	3. Christmas Songs

Leo was humming. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence – he usually had the radio on whilst painting, and frequently ended up singing along when a song he liked came on. The difference was that he wasn’t currently painting – instead, he was scrolling through Instagram on his phone whilst waiting for Zo, clattering around in the kitchen, to bring him food – and the radio wasn’t on, either.

“Where did you even _hear_ that?” Nico asked, eyes narrowed, unwrapping his voluminous scarf from around his neck. As was his usual Sunday routine, he’d just gotten in from Mass; both his boyfriends had been asleep when he’d left, but true to form, Zo had dragged himself out of bed in order to have breakfast ready for when Nico got in. Leo being up too was rare; he usually stayed up for days at a time, feverishly working on his latest masterpiece, and then crashed for a full day in order to catch up on the sleep deficit. Finding him slouched on the sofa at ten a.m. on a Sunday, cradling a cup of steaming coffee like it was his firstborn child, was almost unheard of; he grinned up at Nico, who decided to reward this uncharacteristic wakefulness with a kiss – and stole Leo’s coffee in the process, just to warm his gloveless hands on the hot mug. Even more uncharacteristically, Leo _allowed_ it, and didn’t even complain when Nico cuddled up into his lap, pressing a cold nose into the crook of the artist’s bare neck. “Who are you, and what have you done with Leo?” Nico demanded, drawing back slightly; Leo laughed, and ruffled the younger man’s blond curls, slightly damp from the drizzling rain that’d been falling all morning.

“I’m just _happy_ this morning,” Leo teased, wrapping his arms around Nico, putting one hand over the blond’s to lift his coffee mug up to his own mouth. “is that so unusual?”

“You being _awake_ in the morning is unusual!” Nico protested, hearing Zo, shamelessly eavesdropping on his boyfriends’ conversation, chuckle from in the kitchen. “You being awake, smiling _and_ humming Christmas carols? I’m surprised Zo hasn’t already died of shock!”

“Now, that ain’t fair, sweetheart.” Zo chided, gently, bringing in a tray on which he’d precariously balanced three full plates – full Englishes all round, although his and Leo’s were made with vegetarian sausages and bacon – another mug of coffee, and a cup of overly sweetened tea for Nico. “Leo’s been up and happy in the mornings before,” He continued, dishing out the plates and cutlery – Nico reluctantly crawled out of Leo’s lap so he had more space to eat. “albeit, usually when he hasn’t gone to sleep yet.”

“Exactly!” Nico said, waving around his fork before pointing it menacingly at Leo. “I know for a _fact_ that you were asleep when I left, I had to practically _crawl_ out from underneath you, you bed hog.”

“Please,” Leo said, with mock-offense. “I prefer _cuddle-slut_.” Zo grinned into his coffee cup. “Anyway, it’s Zo’s fault.” Leo continued, stabbing a sausage with his fork and cramming it into his mouth, whole. “Somebody had a _very_ nice dream that they wanted to bring to life, didn’t they, darling?” He purred, looking up from beneath his lashes – the effect was rather ruined by the mouthful of meat-substitute, but Zo’s ears still pinked at the insinuation.

“Didn’t hear you complainin’.” He said, coolly, taking a sip of his coffee. “In fact, all I heard was _fuck, Zo, don’t stop-”_

“As if I _ever_ have any complaints when it comes to you, darling.” Leo teased back, shameless in the way he leant over Nico to flirt with Zo, though the hand he slid up the blond’s thigh proved he hadn’t forgotten about their third entirely.

“I literally _just_ got in from Mass,” Nico sighed, attempting to cut up his bacon with Leo obscuring the sight of his plate. “It’s a Sunday morning, and Leo was humming _O Come all ye Faithful_ not five minutes ago-” He paused, fork half-raised to his mouth, realising the not-so-subtle innuendo when Leo flashed him a wink and a ridiculous eyebrow waggle. He sighed, feeling his cheeks heat despite himself, and tried to ignore them both as they continued to flirt over and around him, working on his breakfast instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I remembered to post yesterday's chapter good job me. I'm surprised b/c I didn't get in from my work party until very, very late and I was very, very drunk. And then I had to work today which wasn't great b/c I work with children and they are LOUD this time of year.
> 
> ... That makes me sound like a bad person I swear I am a responsible adult who can be trusted with children and no one even realised I was hungover for most of the morning except my boss and she was also hungover because she was out drinking last night too, and anyway it's her fault since she was the one buying me drinks. What's Christmas without booze anyway?
> 
> Ok that made it worse don't drink and work kids just because your boss is also drinking doesn't make it acceptable.
> 
> ... 
> 
> In other news I still have a couple of days unwritten yet so if there's any Christmas tropes you're dying to see hmu, I'm eager to please and usually not drunk.


	4. Making the Christmas Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo so fair warning: this chapter is where the Jewish!Zo headcanons start coming in. Like I warned at the beginning, I know very little about Judaism beyond what I've researched specifically for this story (making myself very hungry in the process b/c cheese doughnuts sound delicious???) so if anyone who knows more feels something could be, or needs to be, changed or improved, please let me know and I will get on that asap
> 
> The website I used the most for my research used Chanukah instead of Hanukkah, with the explanation that they're basically the same, it's just because the initial phoneme doesn't exist in the Latin alphabet so whilst it's close to a 'H' it's not actually a 'H' and this is very interesting to me and my linguistics degree but probably not to anyone else so basically, yeah, I used Chanukah b/c the website did so that's that ok bye

“The internet says it’s easy,” Leo wheedled, and Zo shot him an unimpressed look. “You love baking!”

“Mate, you remember that I don’t even _celebrate_ Christmas?”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be a Christmas cake,” Leo pointed out – quite reasonably, he felt. “We could make a non-denominational winter cake. We could make a Chanukah cake!”

“Chanukah tends to be more about _fried_ food,” Zo sighed, with the air of one who has given the exact same explanation many, many times before. “The whole miracle of the oil?” He pointed out; Leo waved his hand, dismissively.

“I _know,_ Zo.” He sighed, with the air of one who has _listened_ to the exact same explanation many, many times before. “I just want a Christmas cake,” He said, mournfully, turning his head to look out the window at the overcast sky, hazel eyes very sad, lower lip jutted out into a pout worthy of Nico, who was an _expert_ at manipulation through the use of puppy eyes. “We never had one, growing up… It’s not like my mother was around to make one…” He trailed off, gave a little sniffle. Zo stared at him, flatly unimpressed.

“Your mother was a Turkish-born Muslim woman,” He pointed out, unswayed by his oldest friend’s dramatics. “She wouldn’t have made you a Christmas cake even if she’d lived to see you grow up.”

“Reminding me of my lack of a mother, at this time of year?” Leo gasped, voice quavering. “You’re so _cruel_ , Zo!”

“Don’t pull the mum card, Leo.” Zo rolled his eyes. “You never even _knew_ her, she died when you were six months old. If anyone should be pulling the mum card, it’s me, given that _my_ mum died around this time of year, when I was _ten_. Hell, Chanukah was her favourite holiday!” He continued, blustering through the rush of sadness, a familiar companion in the winter months. A decade and a half later, and he still missed his mother. “Though,” He sighed, glancing over at Leo’s tablet, still proudly displaying the “Christmas cake for beginners!” recipe he’d spent the past half hour trying to convince Zo to make for him. “she always loved Christmas too. The lights, the music…” He trailed off, sighed a sad, quiet sigh. “Gimme that,” He muttered, scooping up the tablet and flicking through the recipe, mouth moving silently as he read through the list of ingredients, mentally tallying whether or not they had them in the cupboard. “Fuck’s sake Leo, this says you should make it at least six weeks before Christmas, you gotta give me more warning next time…” Leo watched in silent concern as Zo began to rummage through his baking cupboards, clattering perhaps slightly more than was necessary as he weighed out dried fruit. “Get me the brandy then – and no drinkin’ any you fuck, it ain’t even lunchtime yet.”

“Zo…” Leo murmured, uncertain, as he pressed the bottle into Zo’s hands, curling his fingers around Zo’s clenched fists as he did so. He’d never been good at recognising social boundaries; Zo was usually the one to tell him where the line was, and although of course Leo normally went barrelling over it anyway, he wasn’t so heartless that he’d intentionally hurt someone as important to him as Zo was. At the sound of his name in that low, worried tone, Zo glanced up, the tense lines of his shoulders easing at the concern on Leo’s face, the uncharacteristic hesitation in the artist’s gaze.

“It’s fine, babe.” Zo said, eyes crinkling at the corner, face soft with affection and forgiveness. “I’ll make you a cake, alright? It’ll be fun. I’ll make cookies or somethin’ too, since the fruit needs to soak for a while first.”

“I’ll help.” Leo said, determinedly; Zo very carefully did _not_ pull a face, but the wary tension rising in his shoulders spoke volumes. Leo was definitely _not_ the best cook in the world; not even close. He wrinkled his nose, sighed a little. Never let it be said that Leo didn’t recognise his own shortcomings… As few of them as there were. He was, after all, an extremely talented man. “I could help mix?” He said, hopefully, and Zo snorted.

“Yeah, alright.” He allowed. “Even you can’t mess that up.” He teased, winking, and Leo pouted again.

“I am a _genius_.” He seethed, more than happy to feign affront with a stomp of his foot and a toss of his head when it made Zo laugh, a gruff chuckle that served to ease the last of the sadness from his eyes. Leo grinned back, breaking into a laugh of his own when Nico poked his head around the door, eyes slightly narrowed, mouth twisted into what was definitely closer to a pout than a scowl.

“I am _trying_ to study!” He complained, petulant, before getting distracted at the sight of Zo putting on his favourite ‘kiss the cook’ apron; watching Zo bake was one of the blond’s favourite pastimes. Zo winked at Nico, blew him a kiss as he poured brandy on the dried fruit and set it aside to soak. Nico made a slightly distressed whimper, glancing back into the living room, where his textbooks were scattered all over the coffee table, his laptop balanced on the arm of the sofa, and guiltily worried at his bottom lip for a moment, eyebrows turned down into a frown of indecision. “It’s probably time I took a break anyway…” He muttered, ears pink, and perched himself at the kitchen table to watch, rapt, as Zo, smirking slightly smugly, started mixing ingredients, unashamedly flexing his biceps with every stir. Leo, heart swelling with fondness for the two of them, went to fetch his sketchbook.


	5. The Case of the Missing Candy Cane

“Oi, Leo, you fuck, stop nickin’ candy canes off the tree!” Zo shouted up the stairs, eyes narrowed, mouth moving silently as he counted and recounted the remaining candy canes, brightly striped curves dangling merrily from the tree branches. Their plastic wrappers glinted, reflecting the flashing fairy lights wound around the tree – Zo had been setting up the automatic timer when he’d noticed the number of candy canes had dwindled significantly since they’d set the tree up just a few days before. “We’re down to nine, it’s makin’ the tree look lopsided.”

“I’ve only had one!” Leo protested, sticking his head around the door of his studio, looking down at Zo in affront. “Besides, what’s the point of having candy canes if we’re not going to eat them?”

“It’s for the _aesthetic_ , you arsehole, I would’ve thought you of all people would understand that.”

“Look, Zo,” Leo said, almost patronisingly, strolling out onto the landing and hopping down a couple of steps to lean on the banister. “I love you, darling, I really do, but you’re not exactly Sherlock Holmes, are you?”

“You’re a massive dickhead, but continue.” Zo said, and Leo had the grace to look abashed for a minute.

“I meant,” He sighed, wandering down to the penultimate step and reaching forward to drape his arms around Zo’s shoulders, the added height making him, for once, taller than Zo. “that there’s only one person in this house with a sweet tooth larger than the stick jammed unrelentingly up my father’s pasty arse.”

“That’s a weirdly specific thing to liken it to,” Zo drawled. “and also very gross, I didn’t need to think about your dad’s arse, thanks.”

“Makes a point, though.” Leo grinned, and Zo sighed.

“Yeah, and I get what you’re hintin’ at, as well… But Nico wouldn’t do that, he knows how long I spent arranging those bloody things.”

“Of _course_ he’d do it, he knows full well you can’t stay mad at him, he just bats those big innocent eyes of his and you forget all about scolding him.” Leo pouted. “That never works for me.”

“That’s because firstly, you ain’t as cute as Nico,” Zo teased, reaching up to pinch Leo’s chin, “and secondly, I’ve known you so long that I’ve wised up to your tricks.”

“Not all of them,” Leo hummed, and leant down to draw Zo into a slow, lazy kiss. He carded his fingers absently through Zo’s hair, shaking loose the stray pine needles and strands of tinsel that had gotten caught up in the dark curls. “Want to get revenge on Nico?” He suggested when they finally broke apart for air, stroking his fingers down the strong line of Zo’s jaw.

“Depends what you mean by revenge,” Zo murmured, tugging Leo down for another kiss, hands sliding easily down the artist’s sides, curling around his hips to squeeze lightly, drawing their bodies closer together.

“Well, that’s one suggestion,” Leo agreed, slightly breathless, and tilted his head back suggestively – Zo took the hint and pressed his lips to Leo’s exposed throat. “I was thinking of something slightly more diabolical, though.” Zo paused, lifting his head to eye his boyfriend, suspicious.

“He pinched a few candy canes, Leo, it ain’t exactly stealin’ the crown jewels. I think your idea of _diabolical_ might be a bit too severe for a comparatively _minor_ infraction.”

“But your _aesthetics_ , Zoroaster.” Leo teased.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with _my_ aesthetics,” Zo smirked, then paused, brow furrowing in irritation. “The tree _is_ lookin’ lopsided, though.” He grumbled again.

“You’ll have to guard it, darling.” Leo suggested, attempting to coax Zoroaster back into his arms. “But not right now, he’s at class, you can come upstairs with me without worrying about your precious tree.” Zo’s frown deepened.

“Nico’s… At class,” He repeated, slowly. “He… He left hours ago.” He turned narrowed eyes back on Leo, who raised his eyebrows, waiting for Zo to elaborate. “There were _twelve_ candy canes half an hour ago when I went to get the timer plug from under the stairs. _”_ He said, tone low and dangerous. Leo held up his hands, defensively, eyes wide, mouth twitching as he stifled his amusement over Zo’s irritation.

“Don’t look at me,” He said, hopping up a step, out of Zo’s reach, failing to restrain his laughter as his boyfriend growled and snatched at him. “I’ve been on the phone with Andrea about the art show for the last hour.”

“ _You’re the only other one here, Leo.”_ Zo snarled.

“What’re we talking about?” Vanessa appeared in the doorway, voice muffled around the candy cane jammed in her mouth. Zo stared at her, expression one of sheer betrayal. “… What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey next chapter is my crack-ship rare-pair who've never to my knowledge met or interacted in canon
> 
> So yanno if you're only here for the LeoCoZo (if there's anyone here at all except for my one dedicated commenter, which, yanno, shout out to you and yes kissing under the mistletoe is ABSOLUTELY a Christmas trope I can't believe I nearly forgot that one wth me) you might wanna come back on the 7th when we will return to your regularly scheduled combination of these three idiots preparing for the festive season and being ridiculously over-dramatic in the process


	6. Choosing the Christmas Wreath

“How about this one?” Camilla Alessandri, disinherited youngest child of the notorious Pazzi family, beamed delightedly as she ran her fingers across glittering golden ribbons, tied into a huge, crisp bow in the middle of a classically elegant door wreath made of holly and fir. Pale and slender, like a moonlit birch, the combination of that paleness and her dark, almost black hair, cut in a gently curled bob around her soft, heart-shaped jaw, had earnt her more than one comparison to Snow White.

It was an apt comparison in some ways, though instead of a jealous step-mother, she’d been disowned by her father and eldest brother, Francesco, when she’d come out three years before. Her father had been making plans to marry her off to a business competitor’s younger son since she was very small, and had been shocked and angered at both her refusal, and her reasons. Thankfully, her mother – separated from her father since Camilla herself was a child – had been perfectly accepting, and it was her mother’s maiden name that Camilla now bore. She smoothed her fingers across rich green holly leaves, careful not to touch the sharp points, and turned to her companion, thin lips turned up into a hopeful smile.

“I thought we were having a blue and silver colour scheme this year?” Lucrezia Donati was tall and elegant, with an enviable hourglass figure, smooth golden skin, and glossy mahogany hair that fell from underneath a woollen hat in carefully arranged curls almost to her waist. Even bundled up in a winter coat and thick, knitted scarf, she had an air of glamour to her, as if she expected to be photographed at any moment. Of course, given her notoriety as an openly bisexual glamour model, that could well be the case. Sometimes, the thought made Camilla quite anxious; more than once they’d had to cancel plans because of it, but Lucrezia, despite her own ease at being in the spotlight, never complained or judged, seemingly quite happy to stay at home with her long-term girlfriend, cuddling in their pyjamas in front of the TV instead.

“We could have blue and silver inside, and gold outside?” Camilla said, hopefully, rocking back and forth in her thick, furry booths, looking up from beneath her lashes at her taller girlfriend, a coy smile spreading across her face. Lucrezia let out a soft huff of laughter, shook her head in fond, resigned acceptance, and traced the glittering golden ribbon with her own, perfectly manicured fingers, humming thoughtfully.

“As if I could say no to you,” She sighed, finally, smile spreading as Camilla squealed in delight and scooped up the elaborate wreath, ignoring the way the glossy holly leaves pricked at her through her mittens.

“It’s going to look so gorgeous on the door!” She gushed, and freed up one hand to grab for Lucrezia’s, squeezing gently and smiling up at her girlfriend, expression besotted. Lucrezia couldn’t help but smile back, knowing her expression was, no doubt, just as ridiculously adoring. Lucrezia’s previous marriage had been pleasantly, boringly amicable, her split with her ex-husband messy and public, but cordial. In contrast, her subsequent, less-public (but entirely shameless) wooing of Camilla had been scandalous in a way that even the revelations of her and her ex-husband’s respective affairs hadn’t… But every scathing magazine article and disgusted comment from the public had been worth it for this, for the comfortable domesticity that the two of them had found.

“… and Mama and Guglielmo will be arriving at half-past twelve, so if we serve dinner at around half one…” Camilla mused, and Lucrezia hummed in soft agreement.

“Aunt Anna said she’ll try to get there for one,” She contributed, as they approached the till with their purchases, the chosen wreath still cradled tenderly in the crook of Camilla’s arm, despite the presence of a basket full of garlands and other decorations (all in blue and silver, as they’d already agreed weeks ago) hooked over Lucrezia’s elbow. “but you know what Aunt Anna’s like for punctuality.”

“Hmm,” Camilla agreed, worrying absently at her bottom lip, gaze vague, mind miles away as she planned out their Christmas dinner, for all that they still had more than two weeks to go. “perhaps lunch at two, then?”

“Don’t worry so much,” Lucrezia said, fondly, and leant down to press a tender kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek, freeing her hand from Camilla’s mittened grip in order to cup a pale cheek, pressing her thumb to Camilla’s bottom lip and tugging until her girlfriend stopped biting it.

“Your hands are cold.” Camilla protested, and Lucrezia’s smile turned sly and seductive as she leant in again, moving her thumb enough that she could press her mouth to Camilla’s pout.

“You’ll just have to warm them up for me then, won’t you?” She purred, shameless in her flirtations. Camilla, flushed pink to the tips of her ears, laughed, warm and high, like sleigh bells, and leant in for another slow kiss.

“Let’s at least buy our wreath first,” She teased, fishing Lucrezia’s sleek leather gloves from her own handbag – Lucrezia _always_ forgot them – and passing them over.

“But of course,” Lucrezia teased back, voice low and fond. “we mustn’t forget the wreath, after you spent so long picking it out.” Camilla laughed again, the sound warming Lucrezia far more than the gloves, and they continued on their way through the check out.

 

The next day, several magazines and gossip sites ran pictures of the two of them, leant together in the middle of the garden centre, the wreath bold and glittering, their noses pink from the cold, and sheer adoration shining in their eyes as they gazed at each other. Camilla, cheerily humming Christmas songs as she helped her girlfriend decorate their home, both giggling each time they caught each other under the mistletoe, didn’t even care. It was, after all, a lovely picture – she printed out a copy, and got it framed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that one couple in every rom-com, the beta couple, the main character's best friends, or sibling and their partner, or whatever? The couple that have their shit completely together, that are happy and stable in their marriage or long-term relationship, who sit around giving helpful advice and comfort to the MC when they inevitably fuck up in the attempted wooing of their love interest? That's Lucrezia and Camilla.
> 
> Tomorrow is my birthday and my boss won't let me come into work. Also, unrelated, tomorrow's chapter is really short and I'm contemplating rewriting and extending it as a birthday present to myself, and also to include more mistletoe kisses. Because I STILL can't believe I didn't dedicate a whole chapter to those wth me go sit in the shame corner.
> 
> Where was I going with this? Nowhere? Probably nowhere.


	7. Putting up the Christmas Lights

“Why is it,” Zo complained, halfway up a ladder and shivering in the cold. “that I’m the one who has to do all the work for Christmas, even though I _don’t fuckin’ celebrate it?_ ”

“You don’t celebrate it as a _religious_ holiday,” Leo rolled his eyes, stood several paces back, almost in the road, watching carefully to ensure his artistic vision was realised. “You still _celebrate_ it.” Zo grumbled something that was undoubtedly an insult in Yiddish, and leant dangerously far to one side, elbow hooked through a rung of the ladder, in order to hang another string of dripping icicle lights from the guttering. Nico, stood at the bottom of the ladder to balance it, holding tight and staring intently upwards as if he could stop Zo from falling from sheer willpower alone, chewed nervously on his bottom lip, bouncing slightly on his toes to try and keep warm, without shaking the ladder.

“Be _careful_!” He scolded, as Zo leant even further out.

“He’ll be fine,” Leo assured their youngest, stepping in to rest a hand on the blond’s back for a moment. “He used to be a gymnast, remember.” Nico glanced back, expression flat and unimpressed as he focused in on Leo’s grin.

“According to the two of you, Zo’s done _everything_.” He rolled his eyes. “He was telling me about his time as a zookeeper the other day, I don’t believe anything you say anymore.”

“That’s fair,” Leo allowed, grinning shamelessly. “but he really _was_ a gymnast.” He added, as Zo, unable to climb all the way down the ladder due to the way Nico was almost _hugging_ it, executed a perfect – albeit risky – backflip right over their heads, landing on the lawn, with a roll to ease the impact.

“Went through a parkour phase,” He explained, popping to his feet and grinning at Nico’s startled expression.

“Of course you did.” Nico sighed, and let go of the ladder, heading inside to warm up.

“What was all that about?” Zo asked, turning to Leo with a bewildered expression.

“He’s starting to catch on to your tall tales, Zoroaster.” Leo grinned, hands tucked into his pockets. He rocked back onto his heels, eyes already drifting back to the swathe of lights that adorned the front of their house. They weren’t too impressive, currently – it was two in the afternoon, but already starting to go dark; the sky was dull and dreary, the clouds heavy with the threat of rain, and the lights weren’t even lit yet, just weaving vines of white wire, stark against the red brick of their little townhouse. It’d been Zo’s uncle’s, originally – technically still was, though he allowed his nephew to live there free of charge now that he’d emigrated to Israel.

“It’ll be yours when I die anyway, Tommaso,” he’d said, causing his nephew to splutter, concerned about his uncle’s health. “and you might as well move your boyfriend in, too – does Leo even have a place of his own? He seems to spend most of his time here,” He’d teased, and Zo – who at that point had not _technically_ been dating Leo at all – just mumbled awkwardly about paint fumes, and stuttered that his uncle would always be welcome to come and stay, whenever he was visiting – “You can be sure of that, Tommaso, do you know how expensive hotels are these days?” – and that had been that. Three years on, and instead of the elegant chanukiah his uncle had always displayed proudly in the front window around this time of year, they were stringing up glittering, multicoloured lights around the windows, the icicles along the roof, and a neat little nativity silhouette that Nico and his catholic upbringing had insisted upon.

“It’s going to look lovely when it’s lit.” Leo said, decisively, and Zo hummed in agreement. “Your uncle always used to put the menorah in that window,” He added, nodding to the front left – the living room window, through which they could just see Nico settling down on the sofa with his laptop, his ever-present heap of textbooks stacked on the coffee table. “Should we move the nativity to the kitchen?”

“Nah,” Zo shrugged. “Me uncle took the chanukiah with him, anyway, and you know better than anyone that I’m more agnostic than anything else.”

“I know,” Leo said, uncharacteristically gentle, leaning into Zo slightly. “but if you wanted to…”

“Leo,” Zo grinned, face soft with fondness; he raised an arm and slung it around Leo’s shoulders, sharing his warmth with the artist, whose customary outfit of jeans and a t-shirt (albeit with one of Zo’s oversized hoodies worn over the top) wasn’t doing much to keep out the winter chill. “My uncle’s gonna Skype me on Tuesday so I can watch him light the first candle, and recite the blessings and the Shehecheyanu. On the twenty-fifth, we’ll all open presents and cover the house with scraps of wrappin’ paper we’ll be findin’ for weeks, and then head over to Nico’s folks’ house and stuff ourselves stupid with so much food that we won’t want to eat again until new year’s.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Leo smiled back, looking content despite the fact he was shivering slightly every time the wind blew.

“For now though, I think Nico had the right idea.” Zo added, looking slightly concerned, drawing his arm tighter around Leo’s shoulders, hand rubbing idly up and down Leo’s upper arm. “We won’t be able to see the lights properly until it gets dark, anyway - let’s get you inside and warmed up,” He said, gently, and Leo’s smile turned sly.

“Well, I can certainly think of a way or two you could _warm me up_ , Zo.” He teased, and Zo snorted.

“You ain’t half got a one-track mind, Leo.” Zo took back his arm, shoved Leo in the direction of the front door, and took a moment to admire his efforts – when they were lit, they really would look spectacular – before following him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> There is so much information out there about Chanukah and half of it contradicts itself. Also quite a bit of it contains the Hebrew names for things which obvs I do not speak why do I do this to myself. Anyway as always if there's anything that needs to be corrected/improved hmu
> 
> Okay I'm not 100% on this but: given that DvDs is set in Italy (even if this AU is set in the UK b/c I'm lazy) Zo would probably not speak Yiddish since that's more German-based, and there actually apparently existed (and still, to some extent, exist, though they're endangered) Judeo-Italian languages which... Is still not interesting to anyone who doesn't have a linguistics degree or a weird and intense interest in socio-linguistics and/or diachronic language change sorry I had wine tonight and that always makes me overenthusiastic about my degree
> 
> ANYWAY tl;dr I do want I want and I want to make Zo a polyglot and it's supported by canon unless S3 was a lot more messed up than I imagined SO


	8. A Christmas Party

“How do I look?” Zo asked, arms spread as he rotated slowly on the spot, showing off every inch of his carefully chosen outfit under his boyfriends' assessing gazes.

“I love it when you wear tight jeans.” Leo sighed, happily, hazel eyes fixed, unabashedly, on the tight black denim as it stretched across Zo’s _assets_.

“Your tie’s crooked.” Nico contributed, disapprovingly, forcibly dragging his own eyes upwards, a hint of pink to his cheeks as he pretended he’d been focused on the slightly wonky knot the whole time.

“Is it?” Zo muttered, squinting down at his own chest, and then sighed, looking up from beneath his lashes, a slow, smug smirk spreading across his face. “Ah well, never was much for ties anyway.” He purred, and tugged the offending garment off entirely, the knot falling easily apart. He tossed it aside, uncaring of where it fell; his smug grin widening as Leo let out a pleased sound at the sight.

“If you start that,” Nico sighed. “you’ll never make it to your party.”

“Would that be such a loss?” Leo asked, almost sweetly, hazel eyes hungry.

“He’s looking forward to this!” Nico said, disapprovingly, and stepped in to fasten Zo’s perpetually undone buttons. Leo, being Leo, promptly reached over to unbutton them again. Zo’s grin stretched ever wider, and he hooked an arm around Leo’s waist to tug him in for a kiss. Nico rolled his eyes, stepped out of reach when his boyfriends both attempted to grab for him. “I have an assignment due,” He reminded them, curling his bare toes into the thick carpet of their bedroom. Unlike the other two, he was contentedly dressed in cosy, lazy day clothes, too big for him and _clearly_ pilfered – a pair of baggy sweatpants, the dried paint spatters covering them marking them as Leo’s, and a huge hoodie that swamped his narrow shoulders, marked across the torso with the right-to-left march of Hebrew letters, a souvenir Zo had brought back from his last trip to Israel to visit his uncle, and which Nico had promptly stolen for his own – frankly, it was a miracle Zo had any clothes at all, with the pace at which both his boyfriends pilfered them.

“Assignment, work party…” Leo sighed, turning sad hazel eyes on the pair of them and jutting his lower lip out into a sad pout. “and me, left all alone, with no one to keep me company…”

“You know where the toybox is, entertain yourself.” Zo winked, and Leo’s sad pout faltered, interrupted by a smirk; Nico rolled his eyes.

“No, because he’s noisy and I need to concentrate.” He complained. “Besides, Leo, you have commissions due before Christmas, go do some actual work.”

“He has a point, love.” Zo said, gently, when Leo’s pout redoubled at the suggestion. “I’ll be home late,” He added, leaning in to steal another quick kiss from each of them in turn – Nico’s eyes drifted contentedly closed as he leant into Zo’s broad chest, feeling big, warm palms curl around his hips. “so don’t wait up.”

“We’ll be up anyway,” Nico murmured, cuddling contentedly into Zo’s arms, prolonging the embrace for a moment longer and pretending not to hear Leo’s whines at being excluded. “I need to study, and once Leo gets working he won’t stop until he’s finished, or he collapses.”

“The latter’s true,” Leo allowed, a sly grin sneaking onto his face. “but we all know that what our darling Nico here _really_ means is that he hates sleeping alone.”

“Well, so do I.” Zo said, grinning through the kiss he pressed to the top of Nico’s head, ignoring the blond’s huff of irritation at being called out. “So neither of you stay up _too_ late, alright?”

“I make no promises!” Leo called, already halfway out the door, gaze turning vague and absent as it always did when he got an idea for his art.

“You’ll probably end up carrying me upstairs after I fall asleep on a textbook,” Nico admitted, well aware of his own weaknesses.

“The marshmallows and coffee syrups are hidden under the sink,” Zo winked, conspiratorially. “behind the washing up liquid – Leo would never think to look there.”

“You’re a genius,” Nico grinned, smiling fondly, and leant up for another quick kiss. “Now hurry up, or you really will be late for your party.”

“Leo’s suggestion of staying home is sounding better all the time.” Zo hummed, sliding his hands up under the hem of Nico’s stolen hoodie, big hands warm against the curve of Nico’s bare spine. The blond giggled, cheeks slightly pink, and stepped back, out of the reach of those wandering hands, ignoring Zo’s pout.

“I’ll see you later.” He promised, grabbing a blanket from under the bed and wrapping it around his shoulders before heading downstairs, to where his laptop and half-finished assignment waited. Zo sulked for a moment, then checked his reflection in the mirror, ruffling up his hair from where Leo’s hands had dragged through it, shoving his phone and wallet into his pockets, and then following Nico downstairs.

“See you later!” He called, grabbing his keys and his jacket, and got two distracted hums in reply – his boys both engrossed in their work, already, and for all that Nico complained about Leo’s obsessive focus, he was just as bad. Shaking his head with a fond chuckle, Zo shrugged on his jacket and let the door swing shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect that had very little to do with an actual Christmas party I'll try to loop back to this one later
> 
> But I make no promises


	9. Wrapping Up Warm

“Coat,” Vanessa muttered to herself, tugging at an uncooperative zip. “jumper, t-shirt, vest, mittens, hat, scarf…” She let out a triumphant sound as she finally got the zip to work, tugging up as high as it would go, and leaning back slightly to eye her disgruntled baby son.

“No!” He shrieked – one of his favourite words – and shook his head violently until his hat fell off. Vanessa sighed, and picked it up, before chasing after Giulio who, thankfully, was slowed down into an irritable waddle by the sheer number of layers he was wearing.

“It’s not _that_ cold out, darling.” Giuliano, leaning against the wall by the front door with his own coat hanging undone and a scarf thrown carelessly about his neck, more for the aesthetic than for warmth, knowing him, watched bemused as his girlfriend chased down their wayward son, cramming the hat back atop his tousled brown curls, ignoring the toddler’s protests. Vanessa glowered up at him, lips pursed into a disapproving line; Giuliano straightened up, almost guiltily. She’d become rather terrifying lately, and reminded him disturbingly of his mother – he’d blame it on the presence of their son in their lives, but quite frankly she’d terrified him before they’d even started dating. Her temper, her steely determination, were part of what had attracted him to her in the first place. “Keep your hat on, JJ.” He told his son, flicking his eyes away from his girlfriend’s cold stare and focusing on his son instead. The toddler pouted, the blue eyes he’d inherited from his mother wide and sad as he fixed them on Giuliano.

“Here,” Vanessa, smirking, passed her boyfriend his own knit cap, and Giuliano pulled a face. “Set a good example for your son, Giuli.” She said, and he sighed.

“Fine,” He muttered, sullenly, wrinkling his nose as he tugged the offending garment on, flattening his perfectly styled hair. His and Giulio’s faces were mirrors in that moment, the family resemblance clear, and Vanessa smiled, filled with a rush of fondness for her boys.

“There,” She said, contentedly. “now we’re all ready to go out.” She shrugged on her own coat, buttoning it up over an appropriately festive jumper and a neatly tied scarf, sliding her hands into a pair of gloves before crouching down to scoop Giulio up and strap him into his pushchair.

“We’re only going half a mile,” Giuliano muttered, irritably. “if that. He’s not going to freeze in twenty minutes.”

“Let’s not risk it,” Vanessa muttered, making sure Giulio’s boots were firmly tied. “besides, your brother said he wanted to take the kids to the park, and he’ll definitely need to be wrapped up warm for that.”

“Ugh,” Giuliano wrinkled his nose again, thinking of the muddy, churned up mess that was the park at this time of year, sodden from the past few days of rain. “Do I have time to change my shoes?”


	10. First Snow of Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be tomorrow's chapter but then I woke up this morning for work to find everything covered in snow and??? It hasn't snowed this much in years??? My dad was nearly an hour late home from his night shift??? This morning's church service was cancelled even though the church is literally across the road from our house (and from almost every other house in our tiny village)??? It took me an hour to make the ten minute journey to work??? We had a mini-party because barely any kids made it in and so we had nothing to do all day except drink candy cane hot chocolate and sharpen pencils it was actually pretty great.
> 
> Anyway it snowed a lot and IT'S SNOWING AGAIN NOW WTF STOP THAT and anyway I had FEELINGS about the snow that I had to express so I reshuffled the chapters and rewrote this one over the course of the evening you're welcome

The streets were covered with a thick layer of white, muffling the familiar shapes of trees and cars and turning them into strange, nearly formless lumps. Other than the eerie way the predawn light and the streetlamps reflected off the snow, it was still dark outside. Nico, peering blearily out of the window, groaned.

“On a Sunday?” He asked, despairingly, glancing skywards. The clouds, heavy and brooding, seemed to threaten another flurry, and Nico sighed and went to find his thickest socks. “It’s snowed,” He warned Leo, who poked his head out from beneath the duvet for a long moment, eyes narrowed in consideration, and then pulled the duvet back over himself, curling into a ball beneath the warm sheets.

“Have fun at Mass!” He called, voice muffled by the thick layer of fabric, and Nico pouted as he finished getting dressed, layering up in deference to the cold. He stole one of Leo’s hoodies as retaliation for the man’s lack of sympathy, and then realised that, given the size of it, Leo had probably stolen it from Zo in the first place.

“Mornin’, love.” Zo yawned as they passed each other in the kitchen; he leant in to steal a kiss before letting Nico, still sulking about the snow, steal his coffee.

“Ugh.” Nico replied, eloquently, drinking the whole cup of coffee – far darker and more bitter than he usually preferred it – in one sitting, regardless of temperature. Zo gave a sleepy, fond smile and shook his head.

“Pro’lly better I don’t drink coffee before bedtime anyway.” He muttered, fairly unconcerned at his younger boyfriend’s constant, shameless thievery. “Here,” He unwound the thick plaid scarf from around his throat and tied it around Nico’s neck instead, fond smiling widening as he watched Nico bury his nose in it and inhale, his blue-green eyes drifting closed in contentment. “you need it more than I do, it’s cold out there and _I_ am off to bed.”

“Don’t rub it in.” Nico grumbled, glancing out the window again – the clouds had followed through on their threat; the world outside was obscured by a torrent of tiny, swirling flakes.

“You could just come back to bed,” Zo suggested, quietly, shedding his coat and shoving his gloves into one of the pockets. He yawned, stepped out into the hallway to hang it up. Nico trailed after him, drawn in by the absent thought of watching those broad shoulders flex under his uniform shirt. “I’m sure the big guy upstairs will forgive you if you don’t make it to _one_ Mass – besides, you think any of those old biddies you go to church with’ll be able to make it out in this anyway?”

“It’s _Mass,_ Zo.” Nico sighed. “I can’t just _skip_ Mass, not even for inclement weather.”

“Well,” Zo said, sentence breaking into a pause as he yawned. “official suggestion from the Met office and the local police force,” Here he winked, “is for everyone to stay at home, if they can. I’ve already passed two accidents and a whole bunch of stalled cars on the way home, and most of the buses ain’t even runnin’.”

“Oh,” Nico paused, frowning. “Still… It’s not that long a walk, I do it some weeks anyway, and I have boots…”

“Well, we ain’t gonna judge you if you decide not to go,” Zo said, yawning again. “but given the weather, and the fact that every idiot in this country forgets how to drive the second they see a snowflake, there’s a pretty high chance I’m gonna get called in again, so I am gonna go get some sleep, whilst I still can.” He said, and pulled Nico in for another sleepy, languid kiss before disappearing upstairs to join Leo beneath the covers. Nico sighed, considered following him up – Zo would leave the conversation there, refusing to interfere with anyone else’s religious beliefs; Leo, though, would try and wheedle him into staying, through sweet cajoling promises and tender touches, until Nico changed his mind… It wouldn’t take much; Nico was still thinking longingly of cosy sheets, of a broad, warm body on either side of him, strong arms around his waist, cuddling him close… It was a much better thought than that of the three-mile trek through deep snow and slush just to sit in a draughty church, even if it _was_ the second Sunday of advent. Leo appeared at the top of the stairs, half dressed in sweatpants and mismatched socks, pulling on another of Zo’s hoodies, his hair tangled and chaotic, flattened down on one side from where he’d been sleeping on it.

“Zo says I should drive you to church, since the buses aren’t running.” He yawned, and Nico looked at him, doubtfully.

“You’re a shit driver at the best of times,” He pointed out, perhaps a trifle uncharitably; Leo looked a little hurt at the insinuation. “Anyway, being on the road is probably more dangerous than walking, in this weather.” He added, though as he didn’t actually have a license himself, he wasn’t sure as to how true that was. “Go back to bed, Leo.” Nico said, gently, tugging on his thick winter coat and digging through the pocket for his hat and gloves. “It’s just a bit of snow; I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Alright,” Leo replied, reluctantly, around another yawn; he hopped down a few steps, leant over the banisters and gestured demandingly until Nico sighed and arched up onto tiptoes, clutching at the banister for balance and leaning in for a soft kiss, mouths barely brushing together across the distance. “We’ll keep the bed warm for you,” Leo teased, low and suggestive, and Nico huffed, raising his chin in the indignant defiance of the pampered favourite.

“You’d better,” He said, and grinned at the laugh this earnt him from Leo, who rested his head atop his hands, folded on the wooden banister, and smiled again, hazel eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

“Sure you don’t want that lift?” He offered; Leo was never quite as indulgent as Zo, who delighted in spoiling both his boyfriends (though he’d deny it, if challenged), but he still had his moments of softness, moments where he _showed_ how much he loved the both of them, rather than just declaring it with increasingly overblown commentary and exaggerated public displays of affection.

“It’s fine,” Nico grinned, now shoving his feet into his wellies, curling his toes inside his thick socks as he tugged the stiff rubber up his calves. “It’ll be nice, to walk in the snow before all the snot nosed brats get out there and mess it up.”

“You mean, before Zo wakes up and drags us both out there to build a snowman?” Leo teased, lowly, and Nico giggled.

“Or before you decide that this is the perfect opportunity to test all your theories about snow structures and insulation.” He said, and Leo’s face lit up, slowly, eyes going distant.

“Oh, _yes_!” He said, delightedly. “I’d almost forgotten, when there was no snow at the beginning of the year…”

“Now look what you’ve started,” Zo grumbled, poking his head around the bedroom door, probably wondering why they were both still hanging around in the hallway instead of heading to Mass. “Leo, don’t you dare. Either take the kid to church or come back to bed, it’s too early for your shit.” He griped, face lined with exhaustion after his night shift; Leo pouted.

“But _Zo,”_ He whined. “I wanted to try ice carving!”

“It’s not _that_ cold.” Zo sighed, expression that of the sole long-suffering realist in a household full of dreamers. “’sides, the snow’ll probably be melted by tomorrow, between the grittin’ lorries and everyone runnin’ around through it, and we don’t have much of a garden.”

“There’s still plenty of things I could do with just the snow,” Leo said, already looking considerably more awake and eyeing the front door as if planning to head out just as he was. 

“What happened to keeping the bed warm for me?” Nico pouted, and Leo hummed lazily in agreement.

“It’s pretty deep out there, hmm?” His expression turned thoughtful, and he rolled his head to the side to better peer through the window beside the front door. “The snow will still be there when you get in from Mass, plus we’re forecast another ten centimetres throughout the day – it’s still snowing now, isn’t it?”

“Which is my cue to leave,” Nico sighed, glancing towards the door. “I need to go now if I’m going to be wading through ice and slush…” Heading to Mass was sounding less appealing by the minute.

“If?” Leo asked, perking up as he spotted an opportunity to use his persuasive skills. He lifted his head, resting his elbows on the banister instead, propping his chin on cupped palms and smiling, slyly, at Nico. “What’s all this about _if_ , Zo, did you hear that?” Zo sighed, straightened up in order to lean against the doorframe – he was shirtless, wearing nothing but rumpled cotton pyjama bottoms, thin enough that they left little to the imagination. Nico let out a distressed sound; he found it hard enough to say no to _one_ of them, let alone both – and Zo was all too easily drafted into Leo’s plots.

“I heard,” He grumbled, voice low and rough with sleep. “I already told him neither of us’d blame him if he wanted to come back to bed instead of going out in that weather. It ain’t safe, anyway.”

“ _If_ ,” Leo purred, low and thoughtful. “It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” He wheedled, hazel eyes locking onto Nico’s face – he scowled, tugged his hat down over his blond curls and tried to ignore both of his stupid, sexy boyfriends.

“It’s _Mass,_ ” He said, pointedly, firm and determined, and barrelled out into the cold and damp before Zo’s mother-henning and Leo’s sultry persuasion – and simple logic – could coax him back to bed. The sound of two separate huffs of laughter, both fond and only slightly disappointed, followed him out of the door.

He only made it halfway down the path before his phone rang; he was all wound up ready to scold his boyfriends for _ringing_ him to continue their disagreement, until he saw his mother’s name flashing on the screen.

“Mass is cancelled, sweetie,” She said, when he answered. “The roads are too dangerous, and the gritting trucks haven’t been through the village yet – besides, your Zoroaster texted me to tell me the buses aren’t running, and the news is reporting several accidents on the roads in and out of town – I wouldn’t want you coming out in this weather either way.”

“How does Zo even have your number, mama?” Nico asked, bewildered, and his mother let out a soft huff of laughter.

“You never call, pumpkin, and you certainly don’t update your Facebook; Zoroaster keeps me updated so I know you haven’t died yet.”

“Morbid, mama.” Nico sighed, glancing back at the house. “You’re sure church is cancelled?”

“Yes, Nico,” His mother said, gently. “Father Rovere called me himself, to tell me – we have a phone tree for this very reason, after all. You will make it to the carol service next Sunday though, won’t you?”

“Of course, mama.” Nico promised, practically skipping back inside.

“And bring Zoroaster,” His mother instructed, firmly, and Nico’s mouth turned up into a wry grin as Zo appeared at the top of the stairs again, bewildered at Nico’s swift return in the way only the truly exhausted can achieve.

“I’ll bring both my boyfriends, mama,” Nico said, pointedly, and his mother let out rather a long-suffering sigh.

“Just be sure to wash the paint off Leonardo this time, won’t you?” She beseeched. “He’s such a handsome boy, he’d clean up so nicely if he just put in a little effort…”

“Zo and I will do our best, mama.” Nico promised, kicking off his boots. Despite his obvious weariness, Zo stumbled down the stairs to help him strip off his many layers, hanging up the scarf and coat and tousling Nico’s curls once they were freed from his hat.

“I’ll see you next week then, sweetie. Stay inside and warm today, we don’t want you catching cold before Christmas. I love you!”

“I will, mama. I love you too.” Nico said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his mother’s cosseting. He’d been a sickly child, sure, but his immune system was _fine_ now – if anyone was going to suffer in the cold, it’d be Zo, with his recurring childhood asthma, or Leo, who always refused to wear a coat unless Zo managed to bribe or threaten him into it.

“What’s up?” Zo yawned, and Nico, stripped down to jeans and his stolen hoodie, took his boyfriend’s hand to guide him back upstairs to the bedroom.

“Mass is cancelled, no one can get to church.” Nico explained, and Zo managed to summon enough energy to look smug.

“Told you so,” He said, pointedly.

“Yes, Zo, you know everything and I should never doubt you, ever.” Nico sighed, as they reached their bedroom door. Leo poked his head out from beneath the covers, looking cheery and far more awake than he usually was before several cups of coffee.

“Did you change your mind, darling?” He asked, as Nico kicked off his jeans and crawled back into bed next to him, Zo following after.

“Church is cancelled,” Zo explained, whilst Nico made himself comfortable in the warm sheets. “His mum called to tell him.”

“Speaking of which,” Nico frowned, reaching over to shove at Zo absently. “Stop having secret text conversations with my mum about me.”

“Ain’t text messages, sweetheart,” Zo yawned, catching Nico’s arms and drawing the blond in tight against his chest. “We use Facebook, mostly.”

“I’m not sure that’s better,” Nico grumbled, his annoyance easing a bit at the low chuckle his words earnt him, then even more as Zo pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Go back to sleep, Nico.” Zo murmured. “Leo’ll be draggin’ you out to build igloos before you know it.”

“I promised not until at least ten.” Leo sighed, mournfully, tucking himself in against Nico’s back. “Unless you  want to go out now?” He wheedled, and Nico shook his head, snuggling further under the blankets, already dozing back off. “I suppose that answers that question,” Leo said, with a disappointed sigh, and twisted to turn off the bedside lamp.


	11. Christmas Scents

“Merry Berry?” Camilla queried, holding up a bright red, shimmering candle for her girlfriend’s inspection. “Or Candy Cane Forest?”

“Candy Cane Forest,” Lucrezia said, decisively. “It matches the colour scheme.”

“But Merry Berry smells better,” Camilla pouted.

“We could always just get the scented oils,” Lucrezia suggested. “Then there’s no need to match colours.” Camilla brightened at the suggestion, and turned back to the shelf of Christmas scents, searching out the oil to match her candle.

“Lucrezia Donati!” Lucrezia turned her head towards the sound of her name, smiling slightly at the familiar tones. Leonardo da Vinci strode towards her, his own smile bright and beaming as he drew her in for a hug, pressing kisses to each of her cheeks in turn.

“Leo,” She said, fondly. “It’s been a while. I hope you’ve been keeping out of trouble.”

“Trouble? _Me_?” Leo widened his eyes in faux-innocence; Lucrezia saw right through him.

“A vain hope, then.” Lucrezia drawled, and Leo pouted.

“I can be well behaved!” He complained, and Lucrezia laughed. From behind Leo came another, equally sceptical scoff, and the two women looked past the artist, Lucrezia smiling in recognition as Zo nudged his boyfriend aside in order to draw Lucrezia into a hug of his own. It had been a rocky start, for the two of them – no wonder, when Lucrezia had been one of Leo’s many, _many_ flings; slightly more serious, even, than most of his other affairs, enough that even loyal, devoted Zoroaster had begun to worry that Leo would leave him entirely – but in the years since Leo and Lucrezia had broken up, their passionate ardour cooling into a steady friendship instead (and especially after Lucrezia had found Camilla), she and Zoroaster had grown closer, drawn together by similar histories and a mutual fondness for classic movies.

“Mate,” Zo scoffed, flashing Lucrezia a wink as he drew away from the hug and slung his arm around Leo’s shoulders instead. “you wouldn’t know good behaviour if it pranced naked in front of you, singin’ Jingle Bells.”

“Thematic, I like it.” Lucrezia said, approvingly, and Zo winked again.

“Good to see you, Lucrezia,” He said, ruffling Leo’s hair to silence the man’s protests. “This must be Camilla, right?” He asked, offering his free hand for her to shake; Camilla glanced uncertainly at Lucrezia, mouth downturned into a slight frown, before taking it. Zo’s hands were warm, his grip firm, but not painfully tight, and Camilla relaxed a bit at the friendly, reassuring grin the man shot her. “Lucrezia gushes about you all the time, it’s great to finally meet you.” He said, and sounded completely genuine. Camilla smiled, some of her wariness easing in such an easily jovial presence.

“You too,” She said, still slightly shy.

“Winter Pine!” A third voice, unfamiliar to both Lucrezia and Camilla, announced, triumphant and delighted, and a blond boy, barely out of his teens, rounded the corner of the aisle, carefully carrying an armful of glistening, dark green candles that Zo hurried to help him unload into their trolley. “They had a box in the back, I just found a middle-aged woman and pouted…” The boy was saying, and Lucrezia turned to Leo, one eyebrow arched in query.

“He’s legal,” Leo assured her, and Camilla and Zo both shot him startled, disturbed expressions.

“I don’t wanna know why you felt the need to reassure her of that.” Zo muttered, wrapping both arms around the blond and drawing him into a protective embrace.

“It’s because he looks younger than he is,” Leo said, almost indignantly, before turning back to Lucrezia. “This is our Nico, Lu, I told you about him.”

“Oh, of course.” Lucrezia said, with a smile of realisation, and turned to Nico, who was eyeing both women slightly suspiciously. “How lovely to meet you, Nico – I’m Lucrezia, and this is my girlfriend Camilla.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nico muttered, not bothering to unwrap his arms from around Zo’s waist in order to offer a hand to shake.

“Winter Pine, hmm?” Lucrezia said, after a moment’s awkward pause, clearly trying to make conversation with her ex’s new boyfriend. “A very typically masculine scent, I have to say. Camilla and I were just trying to decide between Merry Berry and Candy Cane Forest.”

“Winter Pine smells like Zo’s cologne.” Nico muttered, and then went pink, burying his blushing face in Zo’s chest whilst the older man beamed, delighted.

“Though I think we should get some Cranberry Candy, too.” Leo hummed, grinning at Zo and resting a hand atop their boyfriend’s blond curls. “They’re ‘Nessa’s favourite, and you know full well she’ll be in and out all Christmas.”

“In more than out, I should think.” Zo commented, wryly. “Given that Giuliano’s parents and his mad grandpa are arriving next week – you know she hates how much they nag her and Giuli about when they’re gonna get married.”

“Ugh, _in-laws._ ” Leo wrinkled his nose. “Nico’s are the worst – no offense, Nico.”

“Offense taken.” Nico muttered, without lifting his head from Zo’s shoulder. “Your dad is way worse than mine.”

“He may have a point there,” Lucrezia drawled, linking her arm with Camilla’s, the movement so casual as to be almost instinctive. “Your father is kind of a dick, Leo.”

“That’s fair.” Leo agreed, and ruffled Nico’s hair. “Good to see you again, darling, but I think our boy here wants to get home.”

“Yes, it must be nearly past his bedtime.” Lucrezia quipped, and Nico raised his head, expression indignant, until he realised that Lucrezia was teasing Leo, not him; the artist merely rolled his eyes and kissed both of Lucrezia’s cheek again in farewell, Zo throwing her another wink and a lazy salute when Nico wouldn’t let go of him long enough to let him hug her.

“Mine, actually, I’ve got the night shift again tonight.” He said, mournfully. “Don’t be a stranger, Lu.” He added, expression softening slightly, one thumb rubbing absent, lazy circles into Nico’s shoulder. “Good to meet you, Camilla – take care of the diva for us yeah? Make sure she doesn’t get too much of a big head.” He winked again, to take the sting out of his words, and Camilla let out a soft huff of laughter, turning to look fondly at her girlfriend.

“I’ll try,” She said, smiling sweetly. “but it’s a very difficult job.”

“I know the feeling.” Zo replied, glancing significantly at Leo, who pouted, offended. The three men took their leave, Nico shifting just enough that he could walk, remaining contentedly tucked beneath one of Zo’s thick arms.

“They seemed nice,” Camilla said, quietly politic, once the men were out of earshot, and Lucrezia glanced over, an amused smirk tugging at her mouth.

“You can say it, darling.” She teased, holding up a bottle of Merry Berry fragrance before adding it to their trolley. “Leo is mad as a hatter, and I can only assume the other two are as well, to put up with him.”

“That too,” Camilla agreed, smile widening, and laced her fingers through her girlfriend’s on the trolley handlebars.


	12. First Day of Chanukah

“What’re you making?” Nico yawned, shuffling into the kitchen to the smell of freshly baked goods, the tips of his fingers barely peeking out from the sleeves of the oversized hoodie he’d stolen to wear last night, after the weekend’s snow had turned into a freezing rain, hardly much of an improvement in Nico's book.

“Cheese doughnuts.” Zo said, strong fingers easily shaping the dough. “It’s the first day of Chanukah.” He added, as if that explained anything.

“Okay,” Nico said, after a moment’s silence. “Coffee?”

“Pot’s already on,” Zo said, frowning down at the dough. “It doesn’t look like me uncle’s…” He muttered, squinting at his tablet. He had an email from his uncle open, and his frown deepened as he reread the instructions from the old family recipe his uncle had transcribed for him.

“I’m sure they’ll taste great,” Nico yawned, flopping down at the kitchen table, one hand curled around a hefty mug of coffee. Zo huffed and plopped the dough into a bowl, covering it with a clean tea towel and shoving it to the back of the counter. He glanced over at Nico, frown easing into fondness, and took the boy’s coffee off him, ignoring the pathetic whine, and tucking a still-warm muffin from the cooling rack on top of the cooker into his hand instead. Nico lifted his head to peer at the replacement uncertainly.

“Cheese and bacon muffin.” Zo explained, and Nico narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend.

“You don’t eat bacon,” He said, suspiciously. “except for when you forget.”

“Okay, firstly, just because I ain’t particularly religious doesn’t mean I _forget_ , I just keep to me upbringin’ more when me uncle’s around since it’s respectful and just more convenient, same as we eat vegetarian meals when all three of us are here so I don’t have to cook somethin’ separate just for Leo.” Zo frowned. “Secondly, I ain’t eatin’ it, you are, and you love bacon. Thirdly,” He smirked. “It’s turkey bacon anyway, so eat your muffin an’ then get out of me kitchen.”

“No,” Nico’s refusal came out slightly muffled around a mouthful of crumbs, so it was clear it was the second half of Zo’s command he was arguing against. “Leo’s in his studio – _still_ – and the bed’s cold.”

“Aww, poor baby.” Zo teased, his soft expression taking any malice out of it. “Fine, dough’s gotta rise anyway.” He grinned, and let Nico finish his muffin before scooping the blond up into a princess carry, peering beneath the shadows of his hood to find bleary blue-green eyes and a pouting mouth. Nico huffed and looped his arms around Zo’s neck, tucking his chin against his chest and curling his toes.

“I had to go to _class_ yesterday,” He whined, letting Zo carry him back up the stairs to their bedroom, “through the gross grey slush and crusted over day-old snow, whilst you and Leo got to stay cuddled up in bed, under the duvet, all warm and cosy. Then after I get in from class, all ready to snuggle up under a blanket and thaw out my toes, you two decided that we absolutely _had_ to go Christmas shopping before you went to work. And then, this morning, when I don’t have to get up for class, or church, or Leo running around the house yelling because he can’t find his favourite paintbrush when it’s _behind his damn ear-_ ” Zo snorted; although the abrupt, 6am wake up call had been annoying at the time, especially since Zo had only just gotten in from his night shift and was halfway to asleep already, in retrospect it was hilarious, as sleep-deprived Leo usually was. Nico, however, was still clearly peeved about it, judging by the way his eyes narrowed at Zo’s amusement. “-when I _finally_ have the opportunity to lie in,” Nico continued, deciding to ignore Zo’s non-verbal input for the time being. “I wake up in a cold, empty bed because one of my boyfriends never came to bed last night and the other is too busy making doughnuts to cuddle me.” He pouted, and Zo cooed in faux-sympathy, and dropped Nico on the mattress.

“Well, I can solve at least one of those complaints,” He said, placidly, tugging the duvet up from the tangled mess at the bottom of the bed and tucking Nico in. “lemme see if I can fix the other, too, whilst I’m at it.” He winked, and headed out the door. There was a commotion from down the hall, Leo’s voice raised in anger and then hissing like a disgruntled cat, and Zo returned, arms full of flailing artist.

“I wasn’t done, Zo!” Leo was complaining, though for all his squirming, he couldn’t have been fighting too hard – Zo might be the veteran of a hundred different pub brawls, but Leo was trained in two martial arts and could worm out of any hold if he tried.

“I know, love, but Nico’s cold and lonely and I’ve got Chanukah bakin’ to do.” Zo wheedled, coaxing Leo out of his paint-spattered clothes and into some fresh pyjamas. Leo’s face and hands were flushed red from scrubbing, his hairline damp from where Zo’d clearly taken a flannel to him to try and remove the worst of the paint smears. There were still flecks of a bright, cobalt blue amongst Leo’s hair, but it looked mostly dry. Zo shoved Leo down into the bed and crawled in after him, Nico helpfully holding the covers up for both of them. “Half an hour,” Zo warned, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “Then I gotta get on with me bakin’,”

“Cheese doughnuts?” Leo asked, hopefully, around a yawn.

“Course,” Zo said, slinging an arm across Leo’s stomach, finding Nico’s hand on the far side and lacing their fingers together. “Not sure they’ll be as good as me uncle’s, though.” He admitted.

“They’ll be great,” Leo assured him, words already turning sleep-slurred. “Should’ve made them last year, Nico would’ve liked them.”

“Chanukah started on Christmas Eve last year, Leo, and we had Giulio all day so Vanessa could finish wrappin’ his presents, remember?”

“There are eight days in Chanukah.” Leo pointed out, rather reasonably, despite the fact that his eyes were firmly shut and showed no sign of opening again anytime soon. “You could’ve made doughnuts at least once.”

“Well, I’m makin’ ‘em now.” Zo said, firmly, putting an end to the discussion. “Now go to sleep, don't think I don't know you’ve been up since lunchtime yesterday.”

“Only about twenty-two hours.” Leo mumbled, rolling onto his side and burying his face in Nico’s curls, arms winding around the blond’s waist. Nico shifted into the embrace contentedly, his own eyes lidded and sleepy. “I’ve been awake longer.”

“That’s not something to brag about, Leo.”


	13. Christmas Cards

“Your father’s sent an absolutely _charming_ card,” Camilla said, placidly, leafing through that morning’s post. Lucrezia, already dressed and perfectly coiffed despite the early hour, gave a sigh.

“What is it this year?” She asked, holding out one hand for the card; Camilla passed it over. It was hardly worthy of being called a card at all; a thick little booklet with ‘Merry Christmas!’ printed across the front, and several appropriately festive bible passages inside, along with advice for how best to ‘welcome Christ into your heart and home this festive season’.  The last page was a warm Christmas greeting from Father Rovere to all his parishioners. It was signed by hand, but otherwise, completely impersonal. Lucrezia sighed.

“It’s a busy time of year for him,” She allowed, standing and walking over to the mantelpiece to hang the card alongside the others they’d already received this year. “I’m sure he’ll send an _actual_ card closer to Christmas… Once he remembers that Amelia and I exist.”

“I wonder if he’ll remember my name this year?” Camilla mused, absently, flicking open another hand-addressed envelope. “Oh, this one’s from my mother!” She let out a delighted coo, and passed over the glossy crimson card to her girlfriend. On the front were two stick figures, both female, wearing Santa hats and holding hands. ‘To my daughter and her partner’ the front read, in an elegant, looping white font. Lucrezia smiled, softly. Lucrezia had always been fond of Camilla’s mother, who was almost clumsily earnest in her acceptance of anything that made her only daughter happy. Lucrezia’s father, on the other hand, was absent minded and so wrapped up in the concerns of his parish that he frequently forgot he had daughters at all, although he loved them both dearly. Lucrezia supposed it was part and parcel of having a dedicated Catholic priest for a father – perhaps if her mother hadn’t died in childbirth, and her father hadn’t turned to the Church in his grief, things would be different… But she could hardly complain. Her father may be distant and forgetful, but she knew he loved her; her cousin Girolamo, on the other hand, was in a much different position with his own father. Her uncle Alessandro was not a particularly pleasant man, and she was glad to avoid him.

“I suppose we should write ours in return,” She mused, absently, already starting a mental list of those who would be expecting a card from them. “I bought some the other day…”

“They’re in the study, darling, I’ll fetch them.” Camilla smiled sweetly; Lucrezia returned the smile with a grateful one of her own, clearing a space at the kitchen table for the two of them to write the cards. Whilst Camilla set out pens and stamps, and flicked through their address book, Lucrezia brewed them each a cup of sweet, spiced Christmas tea, rooibos with orange peel and cinnamon, a special blend from her favourite tea shop. She set the cups down – elegant china things, each embossed with a cursive ‘hers’ and a neat sprinkle of holly – and slid into the empty chair opposite Camilla, hooking her ankle around her girlfriend’s under the table. They exchanged soft, fond smiles. This ritual was a well-worn one by now, and Camilla hummed softly as she drew the pile of envelopes towards her, taking up a pen and beginning to address them; Lucrezia, meanwhile, took the cards, inscribing within each one a personalised Christmas message – shorter, for those they saw often, adding more detail for those with whom correspondence was limited to cards at Christmas and birthdays, and the occasional visit. The cards themselves were classic things; an idyllic winter’s scene, glittering snow atop a picturesque cottage, the lights of a tiny, rural village in the background, trees speckling the landscape and the distant, dark blur of a church on a hill, everything equally laden with the snowfall. The distant figures of children played by a frozen lake, and a single, cheery robin perched on a tree branch, his bright beak turned towards the sky. It was perfectly sweet and inoffensive, chosen such that it would be appropriate for all their scattered acquaintances. Lucrezia was rather an expert at it, by now, after so long in the public eye.

“Do we _really_ have to send one to your ex-husband?” Camilla sighed, wrinkling her nose, pen poised above a new, blank envelope.

“He and his new boyfriend sent us one,” Lucrezia pointed out, calmly. “It’s common courtesy, darling.”

“Yes,” Camilla sighed, “but he’s so self-obsessed.”

“Hence why I divorced him.” Lucrezia’s mouth quirked up into a wry smile, and she slid across the card. Camilla pouted, and quickly wrote out the address, handwriting neat and easily legible. She tucked the card into the envelope, sealed it, and peeled off a stamp for the front, then set it aside with the other complete ones. Lucrezia paused in her writing of the next card – for her aunt Anna; a short message, as she was coming over for Christmas dinner, along with Lucrezia’s sister Amelia, and Camilla’s mother and brother – in order to lean across the table and tuck a loose lock of hair behind Camilla’s ear, to keep it out of her eyes. Her girlfriend smiled at her, oddly shy in her gratitude, and Lucrezia couldn’t resist lacing her free hand with Camilla’s, stroking her thumb over her girlfriend’s knuckles, for all that it made it rather difficult for Camilla to seal the envelopes. She had to let go, eventually, so that Camilla could continue with her half of their errand, but for the rest of the morning they sat there, their ankles pressed together beneath the table, needing no words.


	14. Christmas Movies

“I’m not watching any romances.” Nico griped, as he did every time they all decided to watch a movie together.

“Christmas romances are a staple of the season.” Vanessa protested, sprawled across the sofa with her head in his lap, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her stomach. “And since when do you not like romance films? We used to watch them all the time in uni!”

“Ah, but he’s older and wiser now, ‘Nessa.” Zo teased, dropping to the floor in front of Nico and leaning his head back against the blond’s legs; Leo reluctantly took the armchair to the side, pouting about having to sit alone. Nico flushed, cheeks very pink, mouth turned down in an embarrassed pout. “C’mon, I wanna watch _Love Actually_.”

“No, you don’t,” Nico complained. “you just want to annoy me.”

“Miracle on 34th Street.” Vanessa suggested.

“Ugh, nothing in black and white, please,” Leo groaned. “You know I need colour in my life.”

“Is that why you have paint behind your ears?” Vanessa asked, sweetly, and Leo immediately flicked his phone over to camera mode and darted for the nearest mirror to check.

“Again?” He groaned.

“Ooh, Arthur Christmas!” Vanessa chirped, ignoring the reaction her words had elicited, eyes fixed on the screen, scrolling through the list of available films. She’d claimed the remote as her own half an hour ago, though they had yet to decide on which film they’d watch. “Or Mrs. Claus, that one’s a classic!”

“Arguably a romance, though.” Nico pouted.

"Just because it has a romantic subplot _in_ it, doesn't mean it's a romance in itself. It's really more about the emancipation of women!" Vanessa pouted right back. Leo took advantage of the fact he already had his phone out to snap a few photos of them, both sulking, to use as reference - or blackmail - later on.

“Home Alone?” He asked, hopefully, to derail Nico and Vanessa's disagreement before it could turn into a full-blown pout-off. Deciding to ignore the paint behind his ears for now, he crawled into Zo’s lap, draping himself over strong thighs and peering hopefully up at the two on the sofa. Vanessa wrinkled her nose in response, Nico shaking his head, and Leo sighed, morose. Home Alone was his favourite Christmas film.

“A Christmas Carol?” Vanessa offered, instead.

“Which one?” Leo asked, fidgeting in Zo’s lap in an attempt to get comfortable; Zo just sat there, vaguely bemused, allowing Leo to tug his arms and legs around, posing him like a mannequin, looking for the best position.

“Any of them,” Vanessa shrugged, peering at the screen. “They have The Muppet Christmas Carol, that’s colourful.”

“Kermit creeps me out,” Nico complained, eyeing up Leo and Zo as if considering joining the pile. He was still pouting, though whether that was because he disliked all the film suggestions, or because he’d been left out of the cuddling, wasn’t entirely clear.

“The Grinch.” Zo said, decisively, after a moment’s thought, and Nico’s pout deepened, his expression taking on a vaguely offended air at the perceived insult. “It’s my favourite.” Zo raised an eyebrow, turning back to look up at Nico over his shoulder. Behind him, Leo’s expression softened, and he nodded, ever so slightly, at Nico.

“Really?” Vanessa threw her hands up in the air, expression exasperated. “A heart-warming story about the odd-kid-out who spends his childhood getting bullied and so spends his adulthood picking on people instead, until a sweet little blonde thing shows him how to love again?”

“I think you’re seein’ a layer of meanin’ here that I really hadn’t taken into consideration.” Zo drawled. “I just like his dog.”

“Besides, Zo was hardly the Grinch before we met Nico,” Leo protested. “He’s always been a sweetheart.”

“Babe,” Zo said, looking slightly offended. “You’ll ruin my bad boy image.”

“You haven’t got a bad boy image, Zo,” Leo rolled his eyes. “You’re a _policeman_. You give talks in _schools_ because you’re the best with kids. Even Nico’s _Nonna_ likes you.”

“And she doesn’t even like _Nico._ ” Vanessa agreed, Nico shrugging in blasé agreement, and Zo huffed.

“Let’s just watch Elf.” He muttered, irritably, and stole the remote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa left Giuliano home alone with Giulio as punishment for him not helping her dress the squirming toddler back on Saturday (and probably every other day lbr). That's totally what happened I didn't just forget about them both until now.
> 
> Tomorrow is Christmas Jumper Day but I already wore my ugliest Christmas jumper to work on Sunday b/c it was cold with all that snow


	15. Christmas Jumper Day!

“You know,” Leo drawled from the bed, propping himself up on his elbows to better watch Zo dress. “for someone who keeps reminding us all that he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, you seem to be getting rather into the spirit of things.” He teased, mouth turned up into an amused grin.

“This ain’t a Christmas jumper,” Zo said, snottily, tugging the thick wool over his head; Leo watched appreciatively, though with some sadness as various planes of skin were revealed and then promptly covered up by Zo’s movements. “it’s a _non-denominational winter jumper_.” He grinned, wickedly, and closed one dark eye in a wink.

“It has Christmas trees on it.” Leo said, unimpressed.

“It has _winter firs_ on it.” Zo countered, shrugging his battered leather jacket on over the top of the jumper – Leo thought three layers was a bit excessive, especially considering Zo’s propensity to leave his shirt unbuttoned almost to the navel for most of the year, but he couldn’t deny that Zo looked _great_ in that jacket. Then again, Leo thought Zo looked great in most things… And out of them, too. “Besides, decoratin’ a fir tree’s an ancient pagan tradition, ain’t really got anything to do with Christmas.” Leo laughed, and shrugged in acceptance of Zo’s entirely valid point. Zo gave a smug grin in response, and then turned fully to face Leo, spreading his arms out wide. 

“Well? What d’you think?” Leo hummed thoughtfully. The jumper was surprisingly tasteful – seasonally appropriate stripes of soft cream, deep, wine red and dark, mossy green, with alternating patterns of pine trees, snowflakes and reindeer on each stripe.

“Gorgeous as ever, darling,” He assured Zo, and then reluctantly crawled out from his nest of warm sheets to retrieve his own clothes for the day, holding up his jumper for Zo’s approval.

“I’m _so_ glad you ain’t leavin’ the house today,” Zo sighed, eyeing the flashing lights, eye-searingly bright colours, and crude slogan. Leo’s smile spread into an absolutely wicked grin.

“That, darling, is where you’re wrong!” He chirped. “I have two meetings with potential clients today, and a gallery tour at three.”

“And you’re wearin’ _that_?” Zo asked, gesturing to the thick white lettering that spelled out ‘kiss me under the mistletoe’ across the chest of the jumper, arching over a slightly lopsided picture of mistletoe in the centre. Or, perhaps it was the downwards-pointing arrow that he was gesturing to.

“I thought you’d like my jumper,” Leo pouted, and Zo’s mouth twitched up into a fond grin.

“I think it’s fuckin’ hilarious,” He admitted, leaning in to kiss Leo’s pouting mouth briefly in reassurance. “I also think Andrea will kill you if you turn up at the gallery wearin’ that.”

“Andrea will think it’s funny too!” Leo protested, and Zo chuckled.

“Yeah, but his investors might not, and you know how he feels about gettin’ you properly famous.”

“Something more tasteful, then?” Leo asked, looking crestfallen at the thought of not getting to wear his new jumper.

“Nah, do it anyway.” Zo grinned, after a moment’s pause. “Spirit of the season, ain’t it?” Leo brightened, and practically skipped into the bathroom to shower, stealing a kiss from a bleary-eyed Nico as they passed each other in the doorway.

“What’s he so chirpy about?” Nico asked, voice rough and sleep-slurred, shuffling back towards the bed in his slippers and dressing gown, face still pink and slightly damp from washing.

“He’s got a frankly _horrendous_ jumper for Christmas Jumper Day,” Zo explained, glancing at the clock briefly to check how much time he had before dragging Nico in for a quick cuddle.

“Oh yeah,” Nico yawned, leaning heavily against Zo for a moment before shuffling them both closer to the wardrobe, rummaging through the hangers for his own jumper. “forgot that was today.” He yawned again, and reluctantly pulled away from the embrace – Zo releasing him just as reluctantly - in order to shed his dressing gown and pyjama top, and fumble into his jumper instead. ‘MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS’ marched across his chest in thick, three-inch-high black letters, surrounded by cute little snowflakes and underscored by a cheery march of decorated Christmas trees.

“Mine seems a bit tame in comparison to yours an’ Leo’s.” Zo said, feeling almost disappointed; Nico flashed him a sly grin, shaking blond curls out of his eyes, and leant up to press a reassuring peck to Zo’s frowning mouth.

“Don’t worry,” He teased, returning to the wardrobe and digging out a carrier bag, wrapped around something soft and bulky. “We got you one, too, to wear on a day you’re not working.” He winked; Zo laughed and grabbed eagerly for the bag as it was handed to him, grinning widely with delight as he drew out the jumper within. Made of thick, navy wool, the shoulders and waist bore patterns fairly similar to the one he already wore – fir trees and snowflakes, interspersed with zigzagging stripes in red and white. Right in the centre of this jumper, though, were three reindeers having sex.

“That one’s me,” Leo said, seriously, reappearing from the bathroom, hair damp, and pointed to the reindeer in the middle. “Show him the other one, Nico.”

“Other one?” Zo raised his eyebrows, and Nico shrugged, cheeks slightly pink.

“We couldn’t decide!” He said, defensively, and grabbed another carrier bag from inside the wardrobe. This one, when unfolded, turned out to have two large Christmas puddings decorating the front, one over each nipple, and Zo laughed so hard that they had to fetch his inhaler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look that quote from the synopsis finally appeared in the actual story wtf


	16. Meeting Santa

The shopping centre was bustling, hugely crowded; just nine days to go until Christmas, and many people were feeling the pressure, judging by the overwhelming sense of urgency, the frowns and worn expressions on so many faces.

“This was a terrible idea,” Lorenzo muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy.” Clarice hissed back at him, clinging tightly to her daughter’s hands; Pietra on one side, Maria on the other – Lorenzo carried little Maddalena on his hip, their youngest looking slightly unnerved by the sheer mass of people around them. “The girls are excited to see Father Christmas.”

“Where’s Uncle Giuliano?” Pietra asked, rocking up onto her tiptoes as if that would help her see over the crowd, all so much taller than she was.

“He said he’d meet us at the grotto, darling.” Clarice told her eldest, and then turned to look at Lorenzo, who sighed.

“Yes, come along then, let’s get this over with.” He grouched, shifting Maddalena to his opposite hip in order to take Maria’s other hand, just as unwilling to risk losing one of their daughters in the heaving mass of Christmas shoppers as his wife. “On three, we charge.” He said, very solemnly, a general commanding his troops.

“Ridiculous man,” Clarice sighed, exchanging a bemused glance with Pietra, who rolled her eyes at her father’s antics. “Come along, then.” Clarice led the way, keeping careful track of her daughters and husband in the crowd as she wove easily through the shoppers, the crowd parting before her easy confidence. The bright colours, candy cane stripes and glittering fake snow of Santa’s Grotto came into view, the snaking queue of parents doing their best to hold onto their excitable children. From about halfway along the queue there came a flash of movement, a cry of Lorenzo and Clarice’s names – Vanessa stood beside Giuliano, one pale arm raised in greeting, the other hooked through her boyfriend’s. Giulio was being carried on his father’s hip, a mirror of how Lorenzo held Maddalena; he inclined his head in lukewarm greeting as his brother approached, leant in towards Clarice’s smile to exchange air-kisses.

“Hello, dear Giuliano,” Clarice said, fondly, and pressed a kiss to her nephew’s forehead. “How’s my favourite brother-in-law and nephew?”

“Good,” Giuliano smiled, slightly tightly. “It’s busy today, hmm?”

“Very,” Clarice agreed, with a slight sigh. “It’s a busy time of year.” She turned to Vanessa, offered a small smile; the two women hugged, matching tension in their shoulders. Lorenzo and Giuliano exchanged long-suffering glances; neither understood why their respective other halves were so cool towards each other, though Giuliano suspected it had something to do with Lorenzo’s clear adoration for little Giulio, his obvious desire for a son of his own… And Clarice’s battle with infertility. Giuliano thought his brother could have a _little_ more compassion for his wife, rather than talking so loudly about how nice it would be to have a son. “Vanessa, my dear, how are you?”

“Well as can be expected, with so much to do, thank you.” Vanessa replied, perfectly polite, a sweet smile on her elfin face. “I suppose you must be even busier, with three excitable children in the house!” She chirped, and Clarice’s expression softened as she turned to look down at her daughters.

“Well, Pietra’s been a big help, haven’t you darling?” She said, and her eldest puffed out her chest, raised her chin, swelling with pride. “Now, Pietra, Maria, Maddie – you be good for your aunt and uncle, won’t you?” She said, and the girls all chirruped their agreements; Lorenzo set Maddalena down next to her sisters, ruffling her dark blonde curls, and glanced up at his brother’s girlfriend. Vanessa’s eyes were a touch wild, her cheeks slightly flushed and lips parted in a startled expression; she caught herself, quickly, before the children could notice, and smiled at them each in turn, leaning down to greet the girls with hugs and queries as to the latest events in their lives. Lorenzo stifled a smile; Clarice usually referred to Vanessa by name in front of their daughters – this was, perhaps, the first time she’d willingly named Vanessa their aunt, despite the three years she and Giuliano had been together.

“Come along then, Lorenzo.” Clarice linked her arm through her husband’s, waved once more at her brother-in-law and the children – Giulio waved back enthusiastically – and then let the crowd swallow them. “Now, we have about three hours to get all of the girls’ Christmas presents bought and hidden in the car, before we have to retrieve our daughters from your brother. He and Vanessa have promised to take them to lunch, and then to the playground afterwards if we still need more time, and I have a schedule, but it’s going to be tight; we have no time to dawdle.” She hissed, and Lorenzo looked down at her with a soft, fond smile that was almost enough to make her blush under the weight of his regard.

“I have the utmost faith in your efficiency and the military-like precision of your schedules, my love.” He said, and she let out a soft huff of laughter at his unnecessarily poetic words.

“I’ve also scheduled in enough time for a little lunch date of our own,” She assured him, squeezing his arm, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled back at him.

“There’s the terrifyingly efficient woman I married.” Lorenzo beamed, and stopped right in the middle of the crowd to lift her hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

“Oh, stop it,” She chided affectionately, no true scold to her words. “We have shopping to do.”

“Lead the way then, _comandatore_.” Lorenzo teased, and Clarice laughed again, shaking her head, and did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Most of my chapters only end up being tangentially related to the prompt at hand why this
> 
> I got to stand in a toystore today dressed as an elf, it was p great but also gave me flashbacks to my Christmas working in retail so. Yanno. Appreciate those poor retail workers at this time of year.


	17. A Carol Service

Leo hovered uncertainly on the threshold, his eyes very wide.

“What if I catch fire?” He hissed, and Nico rolled his eyes.

“Less of the dramatics, please?” He sighed, grabbing his boyfriend by the hand and yanking him through the wide, stone archway. Leo tensed up, glancing around as if anxious, and then slowly relaxed, flashing Nico a grin.

“Looks like I live to sin another day!” He winked. Nico tried very hard not to groan, or curse. They were, after all, in a church.

“Mate, seriously.” Zo said, unimpressed. He’d been perfectly agreeable all evening, and Nico flashed him a shy, grateful smile, as reward, before letting go of Leo’s hand hurriedly as the aging Father approached, hands outstretched in greeting.

“Ah, Nico, my dear boy, it’s good to see you.” The man smiled, clasping Nico’s hand in both his own and shaking, firmly. He turned, then, to Leo, and raised an eyebrow.

“da Vinci, what on earth are you doing here?” He said, mildly bemused, and Nico tried not to gape in shock.

“You… Know Leo, Father?”

“Unfortunately,” The priest sighed, and then paused, eyeing Nico with some suspicion for a moment. “Oh, Nico, you poor lad.” He shook his head, solemnly, and then turned to Zo. “So then, you must be Zoroaster.”

“That’s me,” Zo grinned, reaching out for a handshake. The priest smiled slightly, before turning back to Leo.

“Lucrezia mentioned she’d seen you recently… I must confess, I hadn’t put together her comments about your new boy toy with young Nico here until now, but it does make sense.” The priest continued, shaking his head again. “Nico’s always had terrible taste in men, I had to warn him off my nephew Girolamo – how many times, Nico?”

“I wasn’t _actually_ going to date Girolamo, Father.” Nico sighed, sounding very put-upon. “I just thought he was interesting to talk to! Besides, isn’t he still going into the priesthood?”

“Yes, yes, following in his father and uncle’s footsteps.” Despite his previous comments, the priest sounded faintly proud of his nephew. He drifted away, then, moving past them in order to greet some newly arrived parishioners, and Nico took the opportunity to narrow his eyes at Leo in suspicion.

“How do you know Father Rovere?” He hissed, guiding both his boyfriends to an empty pew towards the back of the church.

“He’s Lucrezia’s father.” Leo said, as if this was obvious. “Has he never mentioned her?”

“I knew he had two daughters,” Nico admitted. “but I’ve only ever met Amelia, and her surname is Rovere too.”

“Lucrezia has their mother’s surname,” Leo explained, leafing distractedly through the hymn book. “As a mark of respect, I think – their mother died giving birth to Amelia, and then Francesco went into the priesthood, so their aunt Anna raised the both of them…” He paused, the book held open to ‘O come all ye faithful’, and winked at Nico, who scowled and poked him, very hard, in the soft gap between ribs and hip.

“Not in _Church_.” He hissed, scandalised.

“Yeah, Leo, c’mon, have some decency.” Zo sighed. He’d mostly been staying out of their various squabblings this evening, still tired from working long shifts; December was always a mess of traffic accidents, alcohol-induced brawls, and shoplifters. Still, he’d dragged himself away from a much-earned rest in order to tag along to tonight’s Carol service – and hadn’t once complained about the fact that he wasn’t even Christian, unlike Leo, who was _still_ muttering under his breath about it – and Nico was grateful for it. The Carol Service was, quite possibly, his favourite, and he wanted to share the experience with his boyfriends – the glittering candlelight, the arching voices of the choir, the sense of peace and togetherness that the service always brought.

“Hey, Nico!” One of his sisters whispered, sliding into the pew behind them – it turned out to be Mags, when he glanced back to check, and his niece Adelina grinned toothily at him, waving enthusiastically as her mother tried to wrestle her out of her coat and mittens. Mags’ husband nodded in greeting, their baby son a well-swaddled bundle cradled against his shoulder, likely asleep judging by the lack of fidgeting. Nico’s parents were next – his father, Bernardo, nodded stiffly in greeting; his mother Bartolomea fussing over her only son, pinching at his cheeks and lamenting how long it’d been since he’d last visited. Nico’s youngest sister, Toni, glowered sullenly from the end of the pew, shoulders hunched. She was fifteen, and therefore resentful of the whole world. Nico didn’t really blame her – she was, after all, the only one still living with their parents, and so had to put up with all the cosseting that had previously been spread across all four Machiavelli siblings. 

Nico's third and final sister, Vera, in typical fashion, arrived with scant moments to spare before the beginning of the service; she slid hurriedly into the pew next to Toni just as Father Rovere stepped out in front of the congregation, hands spread in welcome.

“Scusi,” She muttered, her toddler, Liliana, a bleary-eyed, blanket wrapped bundle in her arms. “babysitter dropped out and Haru’s still in London.”

“Nonsense,” Bartolomea whispered back, reaching over to pat her middle daughter’s knee, reassuringly. “It’s lovely to have the whole family together for this.” With his boyfriends on either side of him and the rest of his family around them, eyes bright and glittering in the glow of the candles, Nico couldn’t help but agree, even as Adelina announced, just a fraction too loudly, that she wanted to sit with Uncle Nini, and promptly clambered over the back of the pew in order to practically fling herself at him as they stood for the first carol.

_"Once in Royal David's city..."_


	18. Busting Out the Mulled Wine

Nico glanced up from where he was carefully slicing oranges under Vanessa’s watchful eye, and beamed welcomingly at his boyfriends as they stumbled in from the cold, struggling through the door with an armful of bags each.

“I think that’s most everything,” Zo muttered, dumping the bags on the kitchen table and rummaging through them to separate out the frozen and cold items, putting them away first. The fridge was packed full, and the freezer equally stuffed; almost every surface was covered with food in preparation for the big day, creeping ever closer. Nico struggled to understand why on earth they needed so much food, when they weren’t even hosting Christmas dinner proper – they’d be going to his parents’ house for that, along with the rest of his family; his mother had insisted, and though his father didn’t entirely agree with his son’s life choices, he knew better than to argue with his wife when it came to her children.

“You do realise that the shops are only going to be shut for one day, right?” Nico asked, doubtfully, eyeing up the heap of shopping.

“Yeah, but they’ll start running out of stuff over the next few days, and there’ll probably be shortages right into the new year.” Zo shrugged. “Besides, this way we won’t have to go out again until after Christmas.”

“And thank god for that.” Leo muttered, shedding his outerwear and tossing it over the banister, ignoring Zo’s reminder that they had a coatrack for that, Leo. “The shops are so crowded right now that _I_ nearly felt overwhelmed.” He drawled, and Zo huffed out a laugh, leaning in to press a reassuring kiss to Leo’s cheek as he reached over to grab the artist’s abandoned coat and hang it up.

“It wasn’t that bad,” He chided, shucking his own jacket and hooking it onto the peg next to Leo’s. “Though we got stuck behind this middle-aged woman in the check out who was kicking off about something, that was hell on earth.”

“Middle aged women are awful,” Vanessa agreed, conversationally, swiping Nico’s orange slices and dumping them into the steaming saucepan on the stove. “Do you know, I’ve never seen any other demographic complaining in a shop? Just middle aged women.”

“White women,” Zo contributed, leaning over her shoulder and sniffing at the pan. “Mulled wine? Vanessa, you _angel_.” He kissed her cheek, and went to fetch glasses.

“It was my idea!” Nico protested. Vanessa giggled, and his cheeks went slightly pink in response. It was entirely possible that they’d both already had a glass or two, but he wasn’t going to mention that.

“Of course it was,” Zo grinned, passing the glasses over to Vanessa and settling his newly freed hands on Nico’s hips to drag him in for a lazy kiss. “You do always come up with the best ideas.” He rumbled, and Nico flashed him a pleased smile.

“I thought _I_ was the genius thinker in this relationship?” Leo complained, and Zo raised an eyebrow, looking rather unimpressed.

“Submarines are _still_ already a thing, babe.”

“One time,” Leo grumbled, cuddling up to Vanessa as protest for the teasing. “I forget about submarines _one time,_ and he never lets me forget it.”

“He’ll be mocking you for that one until you’re old and grey,” Vanessa agreed, patting Leo’s hands where they were folded over her stomach, his face hidden in the curve of her neck. “Have a glass of mulled wine.”

“At least you love me, Vanessa.”

“Of course,” Vanessa soothed, ladling the wine into glasses, apparently unhindered by the sulking artist clinging to her like a creeping vine. “but you have to admit,” She glanced over at Nico and Zo, her smile bright and wicked, and tossed them a wink. “the submarine thing _was_ hilarious.”


	19. Wrapping Presents

“Fuck!” Leo declared irritably, shoving his chair back from the table in his studio, scowling down at his hand, which was bleeding heavily.

“Shit!” Nico yelped, leaping to his feet – they both tensed as they heard Zo’s heavy tread on the stairs, his deep voice calling out a concerned query from halfway up.

“You two alright down there?”

“We’re fine!” Leo yelled, at the same time as Nico, voice slightly shrill with concern, shrieked:

“Leo’s bleeding!” Zo cursed again, and his footsteps sped up; Leo swore and grabbed for a sheet – worn and paint spattered, but big enough to throw over the heap of unwrapped gifts in the middle of the table. He cradled his bleeding hand to his torso, scowled at Nico, who looked even paler than usual, eyes fixed on the steady stream of red dripping down Leo’s wrist.

“Fuckin’ hell Leo, how’d you manage this?” Zo scolded, the consummate mother hen, darting in with a clean towel, obviously grabbed from the cupboard on his way past, which he promptly wrapped around Leo’s hand to stem the blood flow.

“He was only using scissors!” Nico protested, gesticulating at the offending item in question – a pair of ordinary scissors, long bladed, abandoned atop a half-cut roll of wrapping paper, now spattered with drops of drying blood.

“Leo you fuck, you know you ain’t allowed to use scissors unsupervised.” Zo scolded, wrapping one hand around Leo’s waist – the other still holding the towel in place – and guiding him out of the room and down the corridor to the bathroom. Nico trailed after them, darting in to retrieve the first aid kit from under the sink without having to be asked. Zo flashed the blond a grateful grin before washing his hands and digging through the well-packed box for gauze and antiseptic wipes.

“We let him use _power tools_ , but scissors aren’t okay?” Nico said, sounding slightly nonplussed. Zo shrugged.

“Leo’s a genius, but he’s also an idiot.” He said, quite calmly, ignoring Leo’s offended noise in favour of pressing butterfly bandages to the deep cut in his boyfriend’s palm. “How the hell did you manage this whilst cutting _wrapping paper_?” He repeated his earlier query, looking amazed at the depth and width of the slash, which still hadn’t stopped bleeding. “Damn Leo, this might need stitches.”

“Nooooooo.” Leo whined, and dropped his head down onto Zo’s shoulder, looking pitifully over at Nico as he did so. “Just chop my hand off and leave me to die.”

“You’re such a drama queen.” Zo sighed, but his voice was soft and fond, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Leo’s head, then another, gently as the brush of a butterfly’s wing, on top of the gauze now covering Leo’s latest injury. “Maybe Nico and I should do the wrapping this year, yeah?”

“Or we just get a _lot_ of gift bags.” Leo grumbled, and snuggled closer into Zo’s chest, pouting. “Wrapping is _difficult_.”

“You are a _genius_ , and an artist.” Nico stared at Leo, confused beyond belief. “How come you can’t work a pair of _scissors_?”

“I came out to have a good time,” Leo began, drawing himself up to his full height and speaking with a weighty, dignified tone, looking rather like an offended cat as he did so. Nico threw his hands in the air, exasperated, and stormed out before Leo could finish the meme, muttering about how he should really be studying anyway. Zo sighed.

“Gift bags.” He agreed, and let Leo, pouting again, drag him downstairs to cuddle on the sofa in front of a movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget yesterday's chapter until right now shut up
> 
> I'm still waiting on 3 presents to arrive and I haven't finished crocheting the blanket I'm giving my dad Christmas is le stress


	20. Going to the Panto

“I don’t see the point of this,” Nico huffed, irritably, one hand on his eldest niece’s head to help him keep track of her in the crowd. She glowered up at him out of eyes the same shade as his own, her round cheeks puffed out and full lower lip stuck out in a pout. Zo’s heart swelled at the sight – little Adelina was the very image of her uncle in miniature, and Zo was a sucker for that sweet face. All three of Nico’s sisters looked very much like him, so it was unsurprising that his two nieces – six year old Adelina, and her cousin Liliana, who at three was too young to risk in the crowd; Nico was carrying her on his hip, instead, the action comfortable and familiar despite his professed dislike for children – also bore the distinctive Machiavelli features that all four siblings shared – those round faces, wide, blue-green eyes and cherubic ringlets – although Liliana’s hair was sleek and dark, like her father’s, rather than the golden blonde of her uncle and cousins. Zo himself carried little Theo, Adelina’s younger brother, in a forward-facing baby carrier strapped to his chest. Every time Theo kicked his legs, laughing delightedly at the sights and sounds all around him, Zo melted a little more. He wondered if Nico would ever want kids of their own… It didn’t seem very likely, especially judging by the way the blond was narrowing his eyes at his niece, their matching sour expressions making their faces more alike than ever.

“It’s the _pantomime_ , Uncle Nini.” Adelina said, sounding very grown up in her exasperation. “There’s not _meant_ to be a point, it’s meant to be _fun_.”

“It’s not my idea of fun,” Nico grumbled, hefting Liliana a little higher on his hip. Her little hands were clenched tightly into the shoulder of his coat; her eyes wide and nervous as she looked around. The five of them – Nico, Zo and the children – were surrounded on all sides by other families; tired looking parents and excited children, bored pre-teens and gossiping grandparents, and what looked like an entire scout group, huddled by one wall with three rather concerned looking troop leaders trying to do a head count. “can’t we go in yet? Lili’s heavy.” He whined, and Zo rolled his eyes.

“Here,” He said, holding his arms out. Nico looked at him doubtfully, hefting Liliana again.

“You already have Theo,” He said, mouth a disapproving line. “You might drop Lili if you try to carry her too.” Zo carefully schooled his expression into something patient and understanding, instead of the grin that threatened at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, good point.” He said, casually, resting one hand on top of Theo’s little head, marvelling at the downy softness of those blonde curls. “I mean, I can keep hold of JJ while he’s screamin’ and flailin’ no problem, but _sure_ I’m gonna drop Lili if I try and carry her when I have Theo strapped to me.” Nico scowled, and Zo let his grin spread; Adelina giggled at the sight.

“We’re back!” Leo hollered, dancing easily through the crowd with Giulio balanced atop his shoulders, the toddler shrieking with delight as his honorary uncle easy hopped out of the way of a passing horde and spun back into the midst of their group. “Are we all ready?” Leo’s smile was wide, almost childlike, his hazel eyes alight with excitement matched only by the children’s.

“Yes!” Adelina beamed, bouncing in place, and Zo chuckled at their enthusiasm. Nico had a long-suffering expression on, but Zo didn’t need his tarot cards to predict that the blond would be hollering along with everyone else once he allowed himself to actually get into the performance.

“C’mon then,” Zo said, as over by the theatre doors an usher began letting people in to find their seats. “Got everyone – Theo, Lili, Addi, Nini-”

“Don’t call me Nini.” Nico protested, and Zo laughed and leant in to kiss Nico’s cheek, smiling fondly.

“But tha’s your _name_ , uncle Nini!” Lili said, looking confused and offended, and Nico sighed.

“I’m going to kill Mags for teaching you to call me that,” He murmured, and Leo snorted.

“C’mon then, Nini.” He teased, and Giulio laughed and clapped his chubby little hands.

“UNCLE NINI!” He shrieked – Vanessa and Giuliano’s son was practically incapable of doing _anything_ quietly – and everyone, bar Nico, laughed in response.

“That’s still not my name.” He complained, and Zo glanced at Leo, winked; Leo caught his meaning instantly, after so many years of friendship.

“ _Oh yes it is!”_ They chanted, in unison, sending Adelina into an eruption of hysterical giggles. Nico pursed his lips, but a smile twitched at his mouth, watching his niece laugh.

“Oh no it isn’t.” He said, quietly, and Adelina shrieked with laughter again.

“OH YES IT IS!” She yelled, Zo, Leo, Giulio and even little Lili hollering along with her, a bare beat behind. This time, even Nico joined in with the laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to the panto is a time honoured British tradition dating back for ages, probably, something to do with mummers, I did know all about this but I don't really remember it now
> 
> Suffice it to say it's a big silly play, the princes are usually played by dainty young women and there's always a pantomime dame who's a middle aged man wearing a dress, and some sort of fairy or good witch who acts as narrator etc, lots of slapstick and borderline offensive humour. The 'Oh yes it is/oh no it isn't' exchange is staple of panto humour, right up there with the 'he's behind you!' line.
> 
> None of this is actually relevant given that they don't even make it into the panto just. Stand outside it.


	21. Cuddling by the Fire

“This is nice,” Camilla murmured, quietly, eyes drifting closed at the feel of her girlfriend’s lips upon the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder.

“An oasis of calm amidst the chaos,” Lucrezia quipped, kisses drifting lower, fingers walking up Camilla’s arm in order to tug the loose neckline of her shirt aside, baring more skin. Camilla sighed, contentedly, and leant further back into Lucrezia’s embrace. Lucrezia’s lips quirked up into a smile, still pressed against soft, creamy skin, burnished into gleaming yellow gold by the flickering firelight. The two of them sat curled together on a low chaise lounge, a tasteful antique reproduction that complimented the reclaimed Georgian fireplace and polished mahogany cabinets – the interior designer had done an excellent job. Of course, she’d had the added initiative that it was her home, too; Camilla liked to joke that Lucrezia fell in love with her for her decorating skills, and it wasn’t entirely untrue, though there was, of course, far more than just that behind Lucrezia’s adoration. Still, there had been something about the fire in Camilla’s eyes as she argued, passionately, against the sleek modern lines that Lucrezia had suggested for her living room, in the flat she’d lived in before they’d bought their sprawling country home, that was so contrary to her otherwise meek and docile persona that it had instantly aroused Lucrezia’s interest.

“Your sister’s arriving tomorrow, no?” Camilla asked, and Lucrezia sighed, quietly. With Amelia – bright, cheerful and endlessly nosy Amelia – staying with them until after New Year due to a sudden change of plans, the two of them would have very little alone time. Lucrezia adored her little sister, of course, and couldn’t wait to see her – she was studying at university on the other side of the country, and texts and the occasional skype calls were the most they could manage, between their combined busy schedules – but she had rather been hoping for a quiet, peaceful holiday, just her and Camilla.

“And my father will be here on the 23rd,” She agreed, shifting slightly to rest her chin on Camilla’s shoulder instead, arms tightening slightly around her girlfriend’s slender waist. “but that should only be a few hours – he has too many services to prepare for.”

“Are we going to midnight mass?” Camilla asked, and Lucrezia wrinkled her nose.

“Fuck no,” She said, perhaps a little crudely, given that it made Camilla turn in her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Get out of bed, and go tromping through the cold, just to sit in a freezing church and listen to the more _antiquated_ of my father’s parishioners hiss about us? Darling, come now.”

“Mmm, yes, now that you mention it, staying in bed _does_ sound like a much better option.” Camilla said, and glanced up through her lashes. “Perhaps we should head there now?”

“Or…” Lucrezia drawled, mouth turning up into a sultry smirk, “we could just… Stay here…” She purred, and ducked her head to press another kiss to her girlfriend’s pale throat.

“Here’s good too,” Camilla gasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Log burners and Christmas jumpers do not mix, tho they're pretty great if you've forgotten where you've left your dressing gown and are wandering around in your jammies late at night


	22. Beginning to Panic

“Shit, we still have so much to do,” Zo complained, sorting through the bags full of presents that had almost taken over Leo’s studio; the artist himself had taken to painting either in the garden, or at Andrea’s place, grumbling all the while about wrapping paper and sticky tape, especially since he was no longer allowed to help with the wrapping itself.

“We’ll manage,” Nico said, placidly, with the calm reassurance of one who’d grown up in a far busier household and, as such, was finding the Christmas preparation for a family of three, one of whom (as he kept infrequently reminding them) didn’t even _celebrate_ , almost calm in comparison. “All the presents are here, we just need to finish wrapping them, and I’m very good at wrapping,” He assured Zo, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist from behind, resting his cheek against the taller man’s back, squeezing gently until he felt tense muscles relax under his embrace. Zo sighed, and rested his big palms atop Nico’s folded hands, lacing their fingers together slowly as he glanced around again, slower this time. “Mama and I used to do most of the Christmas wrapping together, whilst Toni still believed in Father Christmas.” He continued, letting his eyes drift shut, smiling against the broad shoulder beneath his cheek. “Mags and Vera weren’t _quite_ as bad at it as Leo is, but they certainly weren’t as good as me,” He continued, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice. His mama had always been glad of the help, especially since his older sisters’ attempts at wrapping always seemed to end up a chaotic mess of crumpled paper and excessive sticky tape.

“I’ll just leave you to it then, shall I?” Zo teased, and Nico delighted in the way his chuckle rumbled through his chest, the vibrations travelling up his spine until Nico could feel the laugh as clearly as he heard it. “Have a bit of a rest?”

“You can leave me to it,” He assured Zo, turning his head to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s shoulder blade, before rocking up onto his tiptoes to kiss Zo’s neck instead. “Since I know for a _fact_ you still have work to do before your leave actually starts,” He hummed, and patted Zo’s stomach lightly before stepping away, letting Zo turn around to face him, just in time to see his smile turn sweet and sly all at once. “and don’t forget, you promised me more Christmas cookies.” He smiled, cherubic, and Zo chuckled again and tugged him back into an embrace, pressing a kiss to his curls.

“You and your sweet tooth,” Zo said, fondly, but obediently headed to the kitchen, after one more concerned glance towards the heap of presents. Nico heroically overcame his urge to follow – watching Zo cook was, after all, one of his favourite pastimes – and instead rolled up the sleeves of his Christmas jumper, collected the scissors and tape, and set to work wrapping the presents. Spoilt brat he may be – he wasn’t blind to his own faults, after all – but even he realised it was hardly fair for Zo to be the one panicking when most of the presents left to wrap were for Nico’s family, and with term over for the year and all his assignments finally handed in, Nico was the one sat around all day every day with nothing else to do.

 

Besides, Leo would just keep whining until he got his studio back, and that was no fun for anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait Nico when did you even find time to finish those assignments you were literally never working on them wtf
> 
> I hope everyone else's Christmas prep is going more smoothly than mine, I still have half a blanket to crochet and I've just realised I've got four more stitches than I should have


	23. Mistletoe

“Hey,” Leo said, the corners of his mouth quirking up with mischief. “Mistletoe.”

“So it is,” Zo said, calmly, and reached forward to catch hold of Nico, a few paces ahead of them, and drag him back into his arms.

“Zo, what-” Nico began, but didn’t manage to finish his sentence before Zo swept him into a low dip, kissing him quite thoroughly, regardless of any potential onlookers. Across the crowded gallery, someone wolf-whistled; Leo, pouting slightly, glanced over, only to find Lucrezia watching with a sly, amused grin. She’d clearly seen the whole thing; he flounced over to her, sulkily.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Lucrezia said, calmly, gesturing to the painting she was stood in front of; a very seasonally appropriate painting of the Nativity, including a cherubic young shepherd boy, his head turned towards the stable until just his blonde curls were visible, a broad shouldered, bearded Joseph who watched the scene before him with a soft, fond smile at odds with his rough appearance, and a Mary who, looking closely, one might recognise as having the same long curls (albeit dark instead of strawberry blonde) and sweet, heart-shaped face as Vanessa. In the painting, Vanessa-as-Mary smiled serenely down at a sleeping, waddled Christ child with all the slightly dazed adoration of a new mother – Leo had started this particular piece a couple of years back, when Giulio was a new-born and would contentedly sleep for long enough for his godfather to get some decent sketches done, and Leo felt the reality of his subject’s faces made for a more truthful, emotive painting. In many ways, it was a very traditional, renaissance style, from the colours and lighting down to the composition – excepting, of course, the exquisitely detailed alien spacecraft floating above the stable. Leo couldn’t remember _exactly_ when he’d decided to turn his study of Vanessa with her infant son into a depiction of the Jesus-was-an-alien conspiracy, but it’d probably happened in the early hours of the morning after binge watching one too many episodes of Ancient Aliens in an attempt to combat his insomnia.

“Well,” he said, airily. “What can I say? Some of us were just born with unimaginable heapings of talent.” He risked a glance back over to where he’d left his boyfriends. They were no longer kissing, and Nico was upright again, but they were standing very close, Zo’s head bent and Nico rocked up onto his tiptoes, their foreheads nearly touching. Zo’s big hands, gentler than their size and rough callouses would suggest, were curled around Nico’s hips, his lips moving slightly as he whispered something to Nico that made the blond’s mouth turn up slightly into a helpless, adoring smile. Leo could probably have worked it out – he was fairly adept at lipreading, as he was at most anything he put his mind to – but he glanced back at Lucrezia instead, giving the two their privacy. He wasn’t particularly jealous – he knew they both loved him as much as he loved them, but Nico and Zo had always had a different kind of relationship with each other than he had with either of them; Zo was his oldest friend, and their friendship had always come first, even after they’d gotten their heads out of their arses and realised how much they cared for each other, and Nico had been Leo’s little protégé three years ago, when he’d been teaching an art history course as a PhD student. Nico and Zo had come together without any of that history, and whilst sometimes it left one of them looking bewildered as the other shared an inside joke with Leo, over the past two years they’d collected plenty of their own little in-jokes that Leo wasn’t a part of… And still more shared between all three of them.

Leo shook off his idle musings and returned his full attention to Lucrezia, who was watching him with idle amusement, as if knowing exactly where his mind had wandered off to, whilst he was staring at her blankly.

“They’re very cute together,” She said, practically confirming Leo’s suspicions that she was some kind of terrifying, mind-reading witch.

“Speaking of cute,” Leo said, his smile turning coy. “where’s _your_ better half?”

“The implication being that you have three halves, da Vinci.” Lucrezia drawled, her amused expression spreading, perfectly shaped eyebrow raising slightly. “Not the _best_ maths, from a so-called genius.” She continued on, blithely, to answer his question, steamrolling over his muttered complaint that he _was_ a genius, actually, and he had the IQ tests to prove it. “Camilla had to step outside for a bit,” Lucrezia’s voice was soft, helplessly fond, when she spoke of her long-term girlfriend; her brown eyes warm and crinkled slightly at the corners, as if lost in just the memories of Camilla. “I think she went down to the car – the crowds, and the lights; it’s all a bit much for her.” Leo could empathise with that – he’d walked this gallery a half-dozen times himself, both alone and with Andrea, but it was completely different with the Christmas tree in the corner flashing, the crowds of people milling around, talking and laughing, drinks and canapes in hand, each raising their voice slightly more with each passing moment to be heard over the gaggle of other guests. Leo loved attention, thrived on it, and all these people were here to view and admire and talk about _his_ work… But even knowing that didn’t stop his pulse racing, his fingers drumming frantically through the air or against his thigh, thinking longingly of when the gallery had been empty, just Leo, with his boyfriends behind him and his father-figure beside him, admiring months of work on both Leo’s and Andrea’s parts, to get the gallery ready for this showing. “Just another hour or so, Leo,” Lucrezia said, gently, noticing the tension in his shoulders. “Then you can go home – why don’t you go back to your boys, in the meantime? I’m sure they’re missing you.” Leo glanced back over at Zo and Nico, and indeed they did seem to be scouring the crowd for him, Nico back on tip-toes as he tried to peer over the other guests’ heads. Zo saw him first, and even from across the long gallery, Leo could see those dark eyes go soft, mouth turning up into a fond smile, reminiscent of Lucrezia’s own just a moment before.

“You’re completely right, as always, dearest Lucrezia.” He said, with his usual extravagance. Just a glimpse of that warm smile from his oldest friend, his lover – as well as, of course, Nico’s cherubic grin a moment later, when he followed Zo’s line of sight to find Leo – was enough to bolster his mood again. He took Lucrezia’s hand, kissed the knuckles, his mouth turned up into a mischievous grin.

“Oh, go on, you.” Lucrezia said, fondly, tugging her hand out of his grasp and giving him a firm, but affectionately meant, shove.

“Pass on my regards to your lovely lady!” Leo chirped, and Lucrezia rolled her eyes.

“I will,” She assured him. “Hopefully the next time we meet it’ll be because we actually _arranged_ something, and not just a happy coincidence.”

“A _happy_ coincidence?” Leo quoted, teasingly. “I knew you loved me really.”

“Oh just go away already,” Lucrezia said, flapping a hand at him in dismissal, though she was still smiling. “Perhaps you can even get a mistletoe kiss of your own, this time.” She mocked, lightly, and Leo laughed.

“Who needs mistletoe?” He winked, and darted off through the crowds, ducking between the clumps of gossiping people and practically throwing himself into Zo’s arms.

“Now, darling,” He said, low and sultry. “Where were we?”

“Hey, Leo, look!” Nico chirped, and Leo glanced away from Zo’s fondly long-suffering smile, only to be grabbed by his shirtfront and pulled down into a deep, toe-curling kiss by their youngest, shockingly filthy from the usually most reserved of the three. Leo leant into it easily, one hand curled over Zo’s shoulder, the other slipping into Nico’s curls, a thumb rubbing gently at the spot behind Nico’s ear that always made him shiver. Zo’s arms were warm and strong around Leo’s waist, Nico’s mouth firm and hot against his own, and Leo let out a soft hum of pleasure despite himself, even as Nico bit his lower lip gently before pulling back.

“Why Nico, you have hidden depths.” Leo purred, licking his own lips. Nico’s mouth had tasted of mulled wine, just a hint, and his cheeks were noticeably pink – but even Nico, notorious lightweight that he was, could handle a glass of mulled wine without turning quite so demonstrative. In fact, Nico usually just got sleepy after drinking wine. Leo raised his eyebrows, trying to convey all this without words – he had very expressive eyebrows, but possibly not _quite_ that expressive – and Nico giggled, looking almost guilty.

“Mistletoe,” He said, gesturing upwards with a nod of his chin, his fingers still curled in Leo’s formerly crisp shirt. Leo glanced upwards – they were, indeed, still stood beneath the mistletoe – and grinned.

“Well,” He said, slyly. “’tis the season.” And he dragged Nico back into another deep kiss, chasing the fading taste of mulled wine.

“Hey,” Zo said, in an amused, good-natured protest, after a few minutes. “Where’s mine?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leo is autistic  
> Camilla has anxiety  
> Merry Christmas to me  
> I haven't slept in two days I never want to see a crochet hook again in my life
> 
> Those first two are both implied and do not have to be taken as canon within this fic but consider also: no


	24. Getting the Kids to Sleep

“Your turn.” Vanessa said, exhausted, flopping down on the sofa next to her disgruntled boyfriend. From upstairs came the faint, but distinct sounds of their infant son gearing up for a truly epic screaming fit.

“Have you tried singing to him?” Giuliano asked, hopefully. Vanessa fixed him with a flat stare.

“Of _course_ I tried singing to him.” She said, tersely. “I’ve tried _everything_.” Giuliano held his hands up, placatingly.

“Just checking.” He said, and sighed. “Maybe we should call Clarice?”

“What could Clarice possibly tell us?” Vanessa hissed, scowling. “What could she suggest that we haven’t already tried?”

“Earplugs?” Giuliano said, with a grin. Vanessa narrowed her eyes at him. Upstairs, Giulio’s wailing had reached a pitch previously unknown to man. “What if we called Leo? He’s probably up, anyway.”

“I mean, you have a point.” Vanessa admitted. “But equally, we’re his _parents_. We should be able to get him off to sleep without his childless godfather having to step in.”

“It’s just because Leo’s rants about space-time get _really_ boring after a while.” Giuliano assured his girlfriend, slipping an arm around her narrow, slumped shoulders. “It puts JJ straight to sleep. Nearly puts me too sleep, too, if I’m honest.” Vanessa let out a little snort of laughter, and Giuliano, smiling slightly, turned his head to press a kiss to her temple. “Let’s leave him for a bit,” Giuliano suggested, trying his hardest to ignore the heart-breaking sobs coming from upstairs. “and see if he falls asleep on his own. He’s overtired now, even the promise of presents tomorrow won’t be able to keep him awake for much longer.”

“True,” Vanessa sighed, glancing at the clock. “It’s already two hours past his bedtime… Though there won’t be any presents at all if he doesn’t fall asleep soon.”

“Did you try telling him Santa won’t come until he’s asleep?” Giuliano perked up slightly, until Vanessa shot him another flat, unimpressed look.

“He’s _two_ , Giuli. You can’t _reason_ with a two-year-old.”

“We reason with Leo,” Giuliano pointed out, and Vanessa snorted again, slapping at his arm.

“Fine,” She said, unnecessarily over-dramatic, and flounced upstairs. Giulio was standing at the top of the stairs, his chubby little fists tight around the bars of the baby gate, eyes big and wet and his mouth open in a wail. As Vanessa climbed the stairs, he eased off into loud sniffles and hiccoughs, and held his arms up to be lifted. For what must have been the fifteenth time that evening, Vanessa scooped up her son, navigated her way past the baby gate, and carried him back to bed. He started struggling as soon as they walked through the door to his room, was sobbing again by the time she’d tucked him under his duvet, trying desperately to cling onto her. “Now, Giulio,” Vanessa said, sternly, trying to channel the implacable calm of her own mother. “Santa won’t come if you’re not asleep.”

Giulio sniffled.

“No,” He said, quite morosely.

“He only comes whilst children are asleep.” Vanessa said, seriously, and Giulio sniffled again.

“Tired,” He said, and Vanessa decided to take it as an agreement. She stroked her son’s hair whilst he worked his way through a few, final sobs, and then, miraculously, fell asleep.

“I told you that would work.” Giuliano whispered from the doorway, looking smug; Vanessa turned an ice cold glare on him, and flounced out of the room, smacking him lightly on the arm as she passed. “Where are you going?” Giuliano hissed, and Vanessa glanced over her shoulder at him from their bedroom doorway, smiling sweetly.

“Well, I _wrapped_ all the presents, so it’s your job to deliver them, Santa.” She said, slyly. “ _I’m_ going to bed.”

Giuliano thought ruefully of the over-large stash of presents hidden away in the cupboard under the stairs, and reluctantly headed back down to go set them all out by the tree. “Don’t forget his stocking!” Vanessa called, her voice pitched loudly enough to carry, but not so much as it risked waking Giulio. Giuliano sighed again, and wondered how his brother managed with _three_ children in the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My kid sister's ten and insists on checking Norad like 10 times before she'll go to sleep
> 
> I had a bonus bit about Lorenzo and co planned but didn't get a chance to finish it and I really gotta crochet
> 
> Merry Christmas


	25. Christmas Day

"This place is gorgeous in the candlelight." Leo murmured, pencil flying across the page of his ever-present sketch pad, racing to capture the image of the church's high, arching ceilings, elaborate carvings, and glittering windows. Nico pursed his lips, turned his head slightly to shoot Leo a disapproving look.

"It's _always_ gorgeous." He said, sounding rather affronted on his church's behalf. Leo glanced over, smiling slightly. The firelight from the candles gleamed against Nico's curls, making his hair glow gold. His eyes were shadowed, his mouth a petulant curve, and Leo turned the page and sketched out the curves and lines of his boyfriend's face.

"Shh, boys." Nico's mother hissed, from further down the pew. Normally, she was rather indulgent when it came to her children's inevitable whispered discussions during church services, but on the other side of _her_ sat her mother, Nico's Nonna Stefania. Stefania was staunchly, devoutly Catholic, even more so than her daughter, and would not tolerate anything or anyone interrupting Midnight Mass. Nico ducked his head, sheepish and chastised, and even Leo tucked his sketchbook away in his ever-present satchel, at least until they got back to the car after the service, when he tugged it out of his bag to sit and frantically scrawl out a few more sketches before they headed home.

"Mmm, how was Church?" Zo murmured from beneath the covers, as his boyfriends changed into their pyjamas and crawled into bed on either side of him.

"It was good," Nico yawned. "Thanks for coming with me, Leo, I know it's not your thing." He said, fondly, and leant over Zo's broad chest to kiss Leo briefly.

"Well, it wasn't entirely altruistic," Leo replied, smiling lazily. "I did need to get some architectural studies done for my next project, after all."

"Plus I would've smacked you if you made poor Nico walk to and from Church this late at night," Zo yawned, curling his arms around his boyfriends' necks and resting a hand on each head, dragging them both down to rest on his shoulders. "Now go to sleep, fuckin' morons," He added, his irritable mutter triggered by sleep deprivation. "We're headin' out to Nico's parents' house at eleven, remember, and I for one fancy a good breakfast and a Christmas shag before we go if we're gonna spend all day listenin' to Bernardo ask us when we're gonna get _real_ jobs."

"Hey, you're alright," Leo pouted, over Nico's embarrassed squeak. "you're a _policeman_ , that's perfectly respectable."

"Well, Nico's mum really enjoyed your gallery show," Zo said, whilst Nico recovered. "So, yanno, you've got her on your side, at least."

"I still think it's weird that you text my mother." Nico muttered, sullenly. "but you're right - mama did love your show, Leo, and dad loves mama, so he probably won't be that bad."

"Well, your Nonna _adores_ Zo." Leo teased, poking the soft patch beneath Zo's ribs. "So as long as she sees him first and doesn't accuse you of destroying your chances of a happy ending by breaking up with such a perfect specimen of mankind again..."

"She's very old, Leo." Nico sighed. It wasn't that he was _embarrassed_ by his Nonna's deteriorating memory - except for when she mistakenly called him by Mags' or Vera's name - but the last time she'd visited, Zo had been working, and his Nonna had forgotten that Nico had _two_ boyfriends, and had nearly been in _tears_ , mistakenly convinced that Nico had traded in her favourite honorary grandson-in-law for some 'boorish, work-shy, communist hippie with no manners, no prospects and no respect'. As long as Zo was around, though, Stefania had no problem with Leo - would even have lively discussions with him about different art periods, given the right circumstances and a glass or two of wine with dinner.

"I don't mind, darling." Leo reassured Nico, propping himself up on his elbow, ignoring Zo's grumbling protests. "It's not the first time I've been considered a distressingly inferior romantic partner by friends and family, nor the first time I've been insulted." He grinned, impish. "I'm almost proud of being called boorish, actually. Never heard that one before."

"Will you two go to sleep, already?" Zo complained. "It's nearly _one_."

"Sorry, darling." Leo's voice softened, and Nico squirmed deeper under the covers, closing his eyes obediently. "Long day?"

"Leo, that ain't sleepin'." Zo sighed, and pressed a kiss to Leo's temple. "Go paint, if you ain't tired."

"You know me so well," Leo sighed, and rolled out of bed. Nico made a soft noise of complaint, lifting his head; Leo leant over and kissed the blond's forehead, soothingly. "I'll be back in a bit," He promised, and slipped out of the room, heading for his studio.

Hours later, a sleepy-eyed Nico appeared in the doorway of Leo's studio, yawning and looking particularly unimpressed in the early dawn light.

"Whoops," Leo said, grinning, unapologetic. "Got a bit caught up," He gestured to the sketchbook in front of him - an intricate, nearly complete sketch of the Machiavelli family at the carol service last weekend, the familiar lines of their faces lit by flickering candlelight, the warmth and depth somehow conveyed in graphite on paper.  
Bernado and Bartolomea stood in the middle, hands clasped; Bartolomea's head was turned towards her son, eyes soft and fond, her arm wrapped around Nico's younger sister Toni, who stood between mother and son, her customary sullen expression replaced with something closer to amused. On the other side, Mags stood next to her father with her husband, Simon, beside her. A sleepy Theo was balanced on her hip, and Adelina stood in front of her parents, hands clasped tight in front of her. Bernardo's free hand rested on his eldest grand-daughter's shoulder; Adelina's face bore her customary cheeky grin. Next to Mags and her family stood Vera, with Haru beside her, an arm wrapped around Vera's shoulders, fingers ruffling Liliana's dark hair, where the toddler's head was propped up against Vera's neck. Nico's expression softened, and he crossed the room to fall into Leo's outstretched arms.

"It's beautiful," He sighed, reluctant to admit it, given that Leo had promised to come back to bed and this sketch had kept him from fulfilling that promise. "Are you trying to win over my father?" He teased, slyly. Leo shrugged, raising one hand to ruffle the tangled hair at the back of his head - a habitual action, when he didn't want to admit to something.

"I like your family," He muttered, shrugging. "Besides, all those ringlets?" He teased, reaching up to tug on one of Nico's curls. "You know I love drawing curly hair."

"Yes, I've heard your lecture about straight lines before," Nico said, managing to keep his expression solemn even as Leo winked. "Why aren't you and Zo in it?"

"Because it's _your_ family?" Leo said, slightly hesitant. Nico raised an eyebrow; made a gesture with his hand that even Leo, notoriously bad at interpreting social cues unless he was actively trying, understood. Leo sighed, wrinkled his nose. "I know _we're_ your family too," he protested, turning his gaze back to his sketch. "But this one is _for_ your family. For your _father_." He muttered, only slightly bitter. Bernardo Machiavelli had been reasonably accepting of his son being gay, at least until he announced that he had two boyfriends, and one of them was an artist. There were some things that were difficult for even the most reasonable of men to get over, and Nico understood that, mostly. His father was trying, at least, and any criticisms were only because he loved Nico, and wanted him to have the best possible life... Which, for Nico, was with Leo and Zo. His father would understand that eventually.

"Well, you only have about an hour and a half to finish it," Nico pointed out, and then let a small smirk creep onto his face. "and you _do_ still have that big, empty space next to me..." He hinted. Leo sighed.

"It just seems a little _presumptuous_ , darling." He murmured, holding up a hand to block out the empty part of the sketch - he could always trim it, that was no problem. "I mean, you and your sisters - _obviously_ , and your sisters' husbands and children, again, _obviously_..."

"Look, you know full well my mother's going to want to display this," Nico sighed. "and when that happens, I want my boyfriends in it, so everyone who sees it gets seethingly jealous over how handsome you both are." He folded his arms, stubborn as ever. "Either draw yourself and Zo in next to me, within the next hour, or forget about it entirely."

"You drive a hard bargain, darling." Leo shook his head, grinning slightly, and flipped the page. Beneath lay another sketch - nearly identical, but with subtle differences that made it seem closer to _finished_ than the other. In this version, Nico's smile was a shade closer to smug, Zo's arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders. Leo was on the other side of Zo, position mirroring Nico's own, with Zo's other arm wrapped around Leo, but his face was turned back towards Nico and his family, that usually mischievous smile soft and fond, and Nico found himself tearing up in response to the sheer _adoration_ that swelled up in him, a reflection of the expression on Leo's sketched face.

"You are such a _sap_." He complained, but there was no real fire in it.

"Manipulative, too." Leo agreed, grinning, and leant in to kiss Nico on the cheek.

"Come on," Nico said, shaking his head, and took Leo by the hand, tugging him towards the door of the studio. "Zo's making that breakfast he kept mumbling about in his sleep."

"Ah, excellent." Leo practically _skipped_ out of the doorway and down the stairs, overtaking Nico and practically dragging him along instead. "You know, Zo's breakfasts are about 60% of the reason I fell in love with him in the first place."

"That's because my breakfasts are expert hangover cures," Zo drawled, hearing the tail end of their conversation as they reached the kitchen. "And you, love, spent a lot of our formative years drunk." He glanced over, expression stern. "Or high."

"Or both!" Leo chirped, agreeably, and settled down at the kitchen table, chin in his hands, staring eagerly at the pan on the hob like an excited child.

"That ain't something to be proud of, Leo." Zo sighed, with the exhausted tone of a well-worn argument. He slid a plate of pancakes in front of Leo, who shot him a besotted smile and immediately set upon them.

"Leave room for mama's Christmas dinner," Nico said, amused, cutting into his own breakfast more sedately, as Leo crammed one of the thick, American-style pancakes into his mouth whole.

"Nah, let him stuff himself." Zo said, amused. "Leaves more roast potatoes for me, then."

"Well," Nico smirked. " _I'm_ going to eat all the pigs in blankets." Leo crammed the last of his pancake in his mouth, and held the plate out hopefully for seconds. Zo shook his head.

"Christmas dinner." He reminded Leo, dumping the used pan into the sink. "Nico's mum's roast potatoes."

"Stuffing." Nico groaned, eagerly. "Bread sauce."

"Brussel sprouts." Zo suggested, and watched Nico wrinkle his nose, disgusted.

"If you eat brussel sprouts," Nico folded his arms, tone a warning that was made considerably less effective by his sullen pout. "then I'm not kissing you again until Boxing day, _and_ I'll make you sleep on the sofa."

"Tyrant," Zo teased, fondly, and leant over to kiss Nico's cheek before heading upstairs to finish getting ready. Nico stepped up to the sink to wash the dishes; Leo, after some chiding from his younger boyfriend, grabbed a tea-towel to dry up. By the time they were finished, Zo had returned, carrying bags of presents out to the front hall, ready to load them into the car. Nico went to help - by his definition of help, which generally meant standing to the side and offering helpful commentary about how to cram everything into the car - whilst Leo darted upstairs to shower and dress.

They made it to Nico's parents' house only ten minutes later than they'd planned; fashionably late, as Zo quipped. Nico's brothers-in-law were co-opted into unloading all the bags from the car, carrying the presents to the front room where they attempted to find space for them amongst the mass of other gifts, including small heaps of toys and scattered shreds of wrapping paper surrounding three over-excited toddlers, each too engrossed in what Santa had brought them to pay any attention to the arrival of their uncle and his boyfriends.

Nico's mama, despite being deep in her preparations for Christmas dinner, was not so easily deterred; she let out a delighted cry at seeing her only son appear in the doorway and darted over to pinch his cheeks and coo over his new shirt, a button-up in a shade of green that Leo had declared brought out the colour of his eyes.

"Oh, Merry Christmas, pumpkin." She said, fondly. "Zoroaster, darling, so good to see you - and Leonardo! Oh, you are so handsome when you're not covered in paint." She teased, and Leo grinned and kissed her cheeks, extravagant as ever.

"I think you'll find I'm just as handsome when I _am_ covered in paint as when I'm not." He replied, and Nico rolled his eyes.

"Where's Nonna?" He asked his mother, in an attempt to save himself from the trauma of watching his boyfriend flirt with his mother.

"Upstairs in her room, sweetie," Nico's mother said, turning back to the oven to check on the potatoes. "Could you peel some carrots for me, darling?"

"You have three daughters," Nico grumbled, heading over to the cutlery drawer to find the peeler.

"Hey, I hope that's not a suggestion that we should be doing dinner just because we're women, little bro," Vera poked her head around the kitchen door, nose pink from the cold, her blonde curls cascading out from under a pair of fluffy earmuffs in a rather alarming shade of pink.

"You've been _here_ all day," Nico pointed out - Vera and Mags had both stayed the night with their families, despite not living that far away, so that the children could open their presents from Father Christmas together. "I only just arrived."

"Hey, I had to take the dog out, that's got to count for something!" Vera protested, just as Totto himself went tearing through the kitchen, slightly damp and leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him. The mutt scrabbled to a halt next to Bartolomea just as she took the turkey from the oven, and sat at her feet staring up at her with adoration.

"No," Bartolomea said, sternly. "You can have some _after_ dinner."

"You spoil that dog," Toni grumbled, weaving past her siblings and mother to grab a mug and flick the kettle on.

"Yes please, dear." Bartolomea said, pointedly, and Toni huffed and filled the kettle up, grabbing the teapot.

"How long until dinner, wife?" Bernardo said, absently, appearing in the doorway. He was wearing a shirt and tie, though his sleeves were rolled up and the knot on his tie was loose. He looked almost surprised to see three of his four children standing in the kitchen. Totto abandoned his position next to the turkey in order to fling himself adoringly at Bernardo's ankles instead. "You're early," Bernardo told his son, and Nico glanced over at the kitchen clock.

"No?" He said, and Bernardo blinked, looking down at the expensive watch he wore on his wrist.

"Oh," Bernardo still looked rather confused as his wife passed him two bottles of wine - white and rosé - that had been chilling in the fridge and chased him out to the dinning room with the firm suggestion that he should go pick a red and let it air.

"Your father has a big case coming up," She informed her son in a conspiratorial whisper. "He's been working very hard."

"Or just hiding in his study to escape the chaos." Vera suggested, and her mother hid a smile by turning her attention to the stuffing.

"Nico, won't you collect everyone for dinner?" She asked, taking the carrots from him and setting to slicing them with terrifying speed and precision. "It'll be about fifteen, twenty minutes, but it'll take that long to drag the children away from their new toys."

"Ugh, mama, can't Mags and Vera fetch their own hell spawn?" Nico complained. "Don't think I didn't notice that Adelina has a new manicure set."

"Hey, that girl has talent," Leo said from the doorway, affronted. He held out his hands, fingers spread wide, and Nico tried not to sigh at the sparkly green polish on his nails. "Zo went for something a little more conservative, of course," Leo added, conspiratorially. "but mine are _much_ more festive."

"Adelina likes blue more." Zo said, solemnly, resting his head on Leo's shoulder and holding out his own hands. His nails were indeed blue - dark and metallic, with a subtle sheen. They were also considerably neater looking that Leo's - probably because Leo was incapable of sitting still for more than three seconds.

"Zoroaster dear, is that you?" Nico's Nonna called from the dining room, and Nico tried very hard not to groan as Zo turned his head and called out a greeting in Stefania's native Italian, already removing his arms from around Leo's waist in order to go speak to the old woman.

"Do not sit next to her." Nico hissed out a warning, wagging his finger about as aggressively as he could manage. "If you sit next to her, I'll never get you back."

"We'll have to launch a rescue mission," Leo agreed, solemnly. "and whilst I'm fairly sure we _could_ take Nonna Stefania in a fight, I'd really rather not beat up an old lady. My reputation can't take it."

"You're both ridiculous," Zo said, fondly, and kissed them both briefly before disappearing out to the dining room.

"Nico," Bartolomea warned, voice tight with the stressed tones of an overworked mother trying to prepare enough food for fourteen people (plus Totto, who was back to sitting at her feet, big brown eyes fixed unwaveringly on the turkey as she began to carve it). "Ten minutes until dinner, go call everyone."

"Yes, mama." Nico sighed, and ducked past Toni, who was boiling the kettle for a second round of tea ("Toni darling, why have you made tea? We're about to have dinner." "You told me to, mama!"), and Vera, who was wobbling precariously on one foot in the doorway to the garden, trying to remove her muddy welly boots, seeking out Mags to try and delegate the child-wrangling to her. "Just think of the stuffing, Nico." He muttered to himself, and grabbed Liliana as she ran by, screeching and brandishing some kind of impractically proportioned doll and wearing tinsel woven into her plaits.

"No, uncle Nini, no!"

"Dinner!" Nico shouted, hopefully, and shoved Liliana into her father's arms as he appeared in the hallway, looking rather concerned at the screaming. Haru took an overly-pointy doll shoe to the arm, and Nico mentally thanked Haru for his sacrifice - even if the squealing hell child in question was his own - before abandoning Haru to deal with whatever had upset Liliana, and heading deeper into the house to try and find the rest of his family. "The stuffing, Nico, think of the stuffing." He reminded himself again, and braved entering the living room to retrieve Adelina and Theo from where they'd apparently built some kind of fort out of the biggest presents and the sofas. Simon was sat on the floor, nodding very seriously in response to whatever story his daughter was telling him whilst she painted his nails dark pink. "Dinner," Nico told him, during a pause in Adelina's tale. Simon nodded.

"We'll be along in a minute," He assured Nico. "Adi's not quite done with my manicure," He smiled, ruefully. Nico escaped back to the dining room before Adelina could suggest he should be her next victim, and slid into the seat next to Zo before his Nonna could claim it.

"Next year," He hissed, as his mother and sisters started bringing in the dishes and trays. "I vote we stay at home and just _post_ them their presents."

"Nah," Zo replied, pulling a silly face at Liliana until she stopped crying and started giggling instead. "Where's the fun in that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone remembered to cook a veggie dinner for Leo. Then again, if Bartolomea's anything like my mother, it's entirely possible Leo was so overwhelmed by the sheer mass of food on the table that he completely forgot he doesn't eat meat
> 
> Which is actually my headcanon for Leo anyway, daft boy
> 
> I hope everyone had a great day and that Santa brought you nice things, if Santa brings you things at all. If not, or if it's no longer Christmas by the time you read this, I hope you had a great day regardless. If no one is reading this, then I hope I have a great day tomorrow which, yanno, Boxing day is for leftovers and movies whilst wearing pyjamas so that's p much guaranteed
> 
> I didn't proofread this chapter b/c a. it's Christmas and b. I've had more glasses of wine in the last twelve hours than I've had hours of sleep in the last three days so I'm going to bed goodnight world


	26. Boxing Day

Vanessa arrived at midday, Giulio on one hip and Giuliano trailing after her looking rather bemused. All three were still wearing their pyjamas - Vanessa barefaced, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Giulio was wearing a snowman onesie, complete with hood, and Leo swept in immediately to steal his godson, before Vanessa could even take off the toddler's coat.

"We could've done this at home," Giuliano grumbled, kicking off his trainers in the hallway and reluctantly replacing them with the fluffy slipper boots his girlfriend offered him. Unlike Vanessa's own, which were a bright, multicoloured knit pair, Giuliano's were a soft brown sheepskin, and so didn't clash with his navy pyjamas. 

"It's _tradition,_ Giuliano." Vanessa pouted, shedding her coat and hanging it, along with Giuliano's own, on one of the free pegs in her best friends' hallway. "Every Boxing Day, Nico and I have a pyjama day, eat leftovers, and watch bad Christmas romcoms."

"Well, why couldn't _they_ have come to _our_ house for this?" Giuliano grumbled, letting Vanessa take his hand and lead him through to the front room. "I've done a lot of shit in my time, but trekking through the city in my pyjamas..." 

"Just think of it as a kind of reverse walk of shame." Leo grinned, sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV, poking around with the DVD player. Giulio was perched on his godfather's back, giggling hysterically and clutching a gnawed carrot stick in one hand. Giuliano raised an eyebrow at Zo, who was lounging on the sofa with Nico lying back against his chest. 

"What? He said he was hungry, I placated him. You really oughta feed your kid a bit more often."

"Yes, he's clearly wasting away." Giuliano drawled, as Giulio grabbed another carrot stick from the plate of snacks set out on the low coffee table and crammed it into his mouth whole.

"Better than chocolate," Nico pointed out, head lolling on Zo's shoulder whilst Zo rubbed his temples.

"Are you _hungover_?" Giuliano asked, faintly aghast, and Nico scowled.

"I'm twenty-one!" He complained, then winced at his own volume, continuing in a quieter tone. "I'm twenty-one, and yesterday was Christmas. I'm allowed to feel a bit under the weather."

"We went to Nico's parents' for Christmas. His nieces and nephew were very loud, his Nonna attempted to steal Zo away again, and his father made pointed comments about my career and lifestyle choices, inbetween asking Nico if he'd thought any more about going into Law after uni." Leo explained, squirming out from under Giulio and scooping the boy up, before plonking himself down at the end of the sofa, Zo and Nico barely tugging their feet out of the way in time. Giulio immediately attempted to climb out of his godfather's lap, looking hopefully towards the pile of brightly wrapped presents next to the tree.

"Yeah poppet, those are for you." Zo assured the toddler. "We'll open 'em once your mum and dad have sat down."

"Sit down!" Giulio instructed his parents, in an over-excited shriek that made Nico groan and squirm over until his face was buried in Zo's neck. Zo stroked his hand across blond curls, soothingly. Vanessa, amused, glanced at her boyfriend, who sighed and dropped down into the armchair, Vanessa perching contentedly in his lap.

"First, Giulio, why don't you give your uncles their Christmas card?" She said, sweetly, reaching into the bag of gifts they'd brought from home and taking out an envelope, passing it to her son, who obediently toddled over to his godfather, holding it out. Zo frowned slightly, watching as Leo took the envelope and slid his fingers under the flap.

"You already gave us a card," He pointed out, gesturing with his chin to the motley collection set on the mantlepiece.

"Well, this one's special." Vanessa said, slyly, just as Leo let out a strangled noise.

"I'm getting a brother!" Giulio yelled, just as Leo held up a glossy ultrasound picture to show his boyfriends. Nico groaned again, though whether at the news or the noise was hard to tell.

"It might be a sister, kid, we don't know yet." Giuliano pointed out, his hands splayed almost protectively over Vanessa's still-flat stomach.

"It'd better be a girl," Vanessa muttered, whilst Giulio scrambled back up into Leo's lap to point out various parts of his sibling within the ultrasound. "I think Clarice might actually kill me if I have another son."

"Don't you worry about Clarice," Giuliano grinned, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek. "I'll protect you from her."

"Giuliano also asked me to marry him," Vanessa informed her three best friends - Nico even raised his head slightly, to better listen. "again. I said no, of course."

"Of course." Nico muttered, dropping his head back down. Vanessa's opinions on marriage were widely known.

"I _said_ we could have a courthouse wedding or something instead," Giuliano sighed. "You don't have to change your name, you don't have to wear a dress... It's just a sign of our committment to each other."

"He doesn't _actually_ want me to marry him," Vanessa said, in a stage whisper. "He didn't get a ring or anything, just casually suggested it whilst we were strapping Giulio into the car to head to his brother's house."

"Weak proposing skills there, mate." Zo teased, grinning; Giuliano rolled his eyes.

"It was a last-minute, joking suggestion." He grumbled. "Vanessa was saying something about how my grandfather will probably ask us about a wedding, like he does every time we see him, and I said-"

"'Well, we could always actually _get_ married, that'd shut him up.'" Vanessa quoted. Giulio, apparently finished explaining, in detail, all the games he was going to play with his little sibling when they arrived, started fidgeting again, looking pointedly at the pile of presents.

"Go on then," Leo urged, setting his godson down on the carpet. Giulio immediately darted over to the pile of presents and began to unwrap. The first thing he revealed was the hideous, singing, flashing Christmas jumper that Zo had been so proud to find, right back at the beginning of December. Giulio almost tossed it aside before Leo descended from the sofa and showed him the button to press to turn it on - and then the toddler was enthralled by the flashing lights and shrill, beeping music. Vanessa groaned.

"I'd almost forgotten about that," She grumbled. She wasn't alone in her annoyance, at least; Nico made another protesting noise and attempt to curl himself into an even smaller ball against Zo's chest.

"Ah, don't be such a humbug." Zo beamed at Giulio as Leo helped the toddler put his new jumper on over his onesie, before passing him another present. "Look at him, he loves it."

"I don't." Vanessa scowled, already plotting how the jumper could be 'lost' between bedtime and tomorrow morning.

"Look, mama!" Giulio shrieked, holding up a new wooden train for his trainset. It had been painstakingly repainted - presumably by Leo - with Giulio's name on the side, not that he was old enough to read it, yet.

"Oh look, honey, it has your name on it." Vanessa cooed, and Giulio peered uncertainly at the train, until Leo leant over to trace the letters for him. Apparently satisfied, he then tossed the train aside and reached for the next present.

"So," Giuliano said, hopefully, as Giulio tore the paper off a keyboard mat and started demanding that Leo set it up for him immediately. "is alcohol also a part of this Boxing Day tradition?" Nico groaned again at the very thought, and Zo laughed and slipped out from underneath his boyfriend to go fetch himself and Giuliano a beer, whilst Leo crouched next to Giulio and followed the boy's strict instructions with an almost grim focus, the two of them working together to produce a discordant melody on the keyboard mat.

"I hate your entire family, and you're uninvited from next year." Nico announced, rolling over onto his face on the sofa and shoving his head under a cushion.

"Aww, don't be like that, Nico." Vanessa laughed, leaning precariously out of Giuliano's lap to pat her old friend on the head. "If the baby's a girl, we're thinking of calling her Nicole."

"Please do not do that."

"You could call her Leona," Leo contributed, from where he was attempting to teach Giulio how to play 'Three Blind Mice' on his keyboard mat, despite not having quite enough notes for it.

"What're we talking about?" Zo asked, returning with beers for himself and Giuliano, juice for Guilio, which went ignored in favour of another present, and tea for the others, all balanced neatly on a tray which he set down on the coffee table.

"Baby names." Vanessa explained, taking her tea with a pleased smile of thanks. Zo tossed Nico some more painkillers, which he swallowed dry with a slight sigh of relief.

"Thomas is a good name for a boy." Zo grinned, and Vanessa hummed in agreement.

"And you don't _go_ by it, so it wouldn't get too confusing! Perfect."

"I don't want to name my child after any of you mad idiots," Giuliano complained, taking a long swallow from his beer.

"Why not?" Vanessa asked, sweetly. "After all, we named our firstborn after you, and you're the biggest idiot of all."

Even Nico managed to dredge up a laugh at the disgruntled expression Giuliano adopted in response to his girlfriend's come-back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that, since in this AU Nico and Vanessa have been friends for ages, she probably asked him to be Giulio's godfather first
> 
> To which he responded: 'no, hell no, not in a million years, get that screaming poop machine away from me, why god why, I'm a good person I don't deserve this just let me die' and so, in retaliation, she went to Leo and asked _him_. She'll will almost definitely ask Zo to be the next baby's godfather, and then actually name it after Nico just to spite him.
> 
> ... Ok technically I don't think Zo can be an official godparent since he's not Catholic but who cares let's pretend Father Rovere just does not shiv a git and will let just anyone be a godparent, I'm p sure it's mostly just a title these days anyway I mean. My middle sister's godparents are super religious and stuff but I'm not sure I even remember who my godparents are, and we haven't spoken to my brother's or baby sister's godmothers in years, and Zo would make a great godfather-slash-honorary-uncle so shut up
> 
> Anyway Lorenzo and Clarice are Giulio's other godparents, so that's p traditional.


	27. The Leftovers

"Right, turkey curry for tea tonight, I reckon." Zo said, peering in slight concern into the stuffed fridge. "Or turkey pie. Turkey somethin', at any rate."

"I don't want to eat anymore turkey." Nico groaned, putting his head down on the table. "I never want to see another turkey ever again in my life." He added, mournfully. Zo sighed.

"Should've said no when your mum foisted the leftovers off on us, then." He grumbled, poking through the fridge to grab a cold roast potato and cramming it into his mouth whole before grabbing the plate of leftover turkey, still not depleted after the previous day's menu of turkey sandwiches for lunch and cold meat and chips for tea.

"Well, Vera and Mags didn't want them, since they went to their in-laws' for Boxing day," Nico shrugged, helplessly. "and anyway, she just worries we don't eat. You know what mum's like, convinced that we're going to waste away, since there's no way men can cook." Zo pursed his lips, and dug in his pocket for his phone, tapping out a message slowly, but steadily. "... Do I want to know what you're doing?" Nico asked, lifting his head and peering suspiciously at his boyfriend.

"Textin' your mum," Zo said, calmly, ignoring the squeak of protest this elicited from his boyfriend. "I'm gonna invite her and your dad over for dinner in the new year - Toni too, probably, ain't really fair to leave her home alone."

"What? Why?" Nico whined, flopping out dramatically on the table again.

"Well, I don't want your mum thinkin' I ain't feedin' you properly." Zo said, absently sliding one of the last remaining cheese doughnuts across the table to Nico. "So if we have them over for dinner, and I cook..."

"I suppose that would stop her worrying so much." The fact that Nico loved Zo's cooking - and watching him cook, for that matter - was no secret, and both his boyfriends (and Vanessa) frequently teased him about the way he would find any excuse to hang around the kitchen whilst Zo was in there.

"Well then," Zo said, sending off the text with a flourish. "Dinner party it is."

"Why are we having a dinner party?" Leo asked, wandering into the room. Unknowingly, he copied Zo's actions of a few moments before, opening the fridge and rummaging around before cramming some miscellaneous leftovers in his mouth. Zo watched, bemused.

"Nico says we got all the leftovers cause his mum worries we ain't feedin' him," He explained.

"Ah," Leo said, knowingly. "So you're going to cook for them. That'll definitely reassure her, darling, your cooking is excellent."

"Glad you think so." Zo grinned. "You want turkey curry or turkey pie for dinner?" Leo wrinkled his nose, and stuffed another roast potato in his mouth.

"More turkey? I'll pass, darling, I'm vegetarian, remember." He mumbled, around his mouthful. Zo snorted.

"Funny you remember that now, and not when we were sittin' in front of Nico's mum's roast." He muttered. Leo arched an eyebrow whilst he put the kettle on and starting making himself coffee. 

"You're one to talk," He drawled. "Don't think I didn't notice you cramming gammon in your mouth. Gammon's pig, you know."

"No comment," Zo grinned, dark eyes twinkling. "Curry or pie?"

"Curry," Leo sighed, glancing over at Nico, who frowned.

"Just as long as it's not too spicy," He said, which made Zo sigh.

"You think everythin's too spicy, sweetheart."

"Maybe you should just make pilaf." Leo suggested. "But... Without the chilli."

"The chilli's the best bit," Zo grumbled, but obediently dug out a pan and started collecting ingredients.


	28. An Unexpected Guest

"Zo," Leo called down the stairs, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the apparition in front of him. He almost hoped he was having a bad trip, despite having been clean for several years now. "What is that in my studio?"

"I dunno babe, you know I don't understand most of your inventions." Zo called back, stood in the hallway attempting to tidy up the mess of coats and scarves.

"Zo, come up here, please." Leo all but begged, and Zo sighed and jogged up the stairs, draping himself over Leo's shoulders. "Now, either there's one more giant furry animal in this house than usual," He said, pointedly elbowing Zo's stomach. "Or I'm having some kind of psychiatric break, and I really don't have the energy for another one of those right now, darling, I have comissions to finish... Besides which, it'd scare Nico."

"Oh, that's Rudolph." Zo beamed, moving past Leo into the room and crouching down next to the heap of brown fur sprawled out across one of the dust sheets Leo used to try and keep paint from splattering all over the floor. "He's a reindeer!"

"I'm pretty sure he's a moose, actually, darling." Leo murmured, still in a mild state of shock. "I did a biological study on them a while back, I-" He took in a deep breath. "That's besides the point. Why is there a moose in my studio, Zoroaster?"

"He's a reindeer," Zo said, mildly, petting the creature's soft nose. "and I put him here. I found him by the side of the road when I was drivin' back from Nico's parents' house."

"And Nico just let you bring a moose into the house?" Leo asked, disbelievingly.

"Nah," Zo shrugged. "He decided to stay for dinner. Don't think he trusts me not to feed him more turkey. His dad's gonna drop him back in a bit."

"Zo, darling," Leo sighed, walking over and crouching down next to his boyfriend. "I love you very much, but we're not keeping the moose."

"Reindeer. I know that, I've got someone from a wildlife sanctury comin' round later to pick him up."

"Zo, he's definitely a moose." Leo sighed. Downstairs, he heard the faint sounds of keys in the lock. "Oh thank god," He muttered. Nico might actually be able to talk some sense into Zo - Leo didn't actually like this 'acting like a grown up' thing very much, normally it was _Zo_ talking _Leo_ out of stupid ideas. "Nico!" Leo called, and waited as Nico climbed the stairs with a slow, heavy tread that spoke to just how much food his mother had managed to cram into him. "Nico darling, come tell Zo he can't keep the moose." He all but pleaded, as Nico appeared in the doorway. He was flushed pink and sleepy-eyed, and swaying slightly on his feet.

"That," Nico proclaimed, in a clear but confused tone, "is an elk."

"No, it's a reindeer." Zo said, patiently.

"It's a moose, Zoroaster!"

"It's an elk." Nico repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Where did you even get an elk? They've been extinct in Britain since the Bronze Age!"

"Figured he'd escaped from a Christmas pageant," Zo shrugged. "what with him bein' a reindeer and all."

"He's a moose-"

"Reindeer."

"Elk!"

"- and he really shouldn't be inside the house at all." Leo said, folding his arms.

"Who are you and what've you done with Leo?" Nico asked, turning his narrowed eyes on Leo instead. He swayed slightly too far, and nearly overbalanced - Leo darted over to catch him, slinging an arm around his waist.

"How much have you had to drink, darling?" He asked, fondly; Nico shrugged.

"Mama always has the best wine." He said, seriously. "And then she made spiked hot chocolates, and it's not like Toni could drink them..."

"Ok, darling, we get the point." Leo said, soothingly, running his fingers through Nico's curls, damp from the drizzle outside. "How about we get you to bed, hmm? Zo, when I get back, that moose-"

"Reindeer."

"Eeeeeeeeeeelk."

"-had better be gone. I don't like this whole 'being responsible' thing, I want to paint and invent for three days straight and nearly blow the house up at four am, I can't do that if there's a bloody great moose-"

"ELK!"

"REINDEER!"

"- cluttering up my studio."

"Half an hour, Leo, promise." Zo said, glancing at his watch. "The animal sanctuary people'll be by then to pick Rudolph up." He paused, looking sheepish. "I ain't actually sure I can get him back downstairs on my own, anyway." Leo paused too, glancing between the enormous creature on the floor, the narrow doorway, and the steep, straight staircase.

"How did you get him up here in the first place?" He demanded, suddenly struck by the sheer impossibility, the need to take measurements, make calculations- Zo was watching him, grinning in unsubtle amusement, and Leo scowled and hefted Nico up into his arms, staggering slightly under the boy's weight, ignoring Nico's protests in order to carry him down the corridor and dump him on the bed. Zo appeared a moment later, glass of water in one hand and Leo's notebook in the other, held out like peace offerings. His expression was sheepish, and Leo narrowed his eyes and snatched his notebook out of his boyfriend's hands.

"I'll watch Nico, go on, go do... Maths." Zo said, waving his hand. Leo looked back at Nico, who had already fallen asleep, his curls a tousled mess falling across his face, still wearing everything except his shoes and coat. His expression softened, and he glanced back at Zo, who was still looking apologetic.

"You owe me _so many orgasms_ for this." He said, sternly, and then darted in to kiss Zo briefly before disappearing back to his studio to try and work out how the hell Zo had managed to cart an enormous moose/(reindeer/elk) that had to weigh more than 600kg through at least two doorways narrower than even one of the moose/(elk/reindeer)'s antlers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked my brother what today's prompt should be and he said "an unexpected guest" and I was like "ok cool Zo's uncle can come around and-" "No. The unexpected guest should be an animal." "Oh I see, so like, they find an abandoned cat in the snow and-" "No. A big animal. One that it's completely ridiculous to have inside your home." "... Done."


	29. Beginning the Cleaning Up

"Finally," Lucrezia sighed, relieved, lowering her hand from where she'd been waving her father and sister off. Amelia was headed back to uni, to ring in the new year with her friends there, and their father had decided to drive her to the station himself; he didn't get to see her as often as he did his elder daughter, given that Lucrezia and Camilla still lived in the same city as him.

"Act blasé all you want, darling, I know you're already looking forward to Amelia's next visit," Camilla teased, leaning against her girlfriend's arm. She shivered, slightly, in the cold night breeze. "Can we go inside, now?" She asked, and Lucrezia sighed.

"I do miss her," She admitted, letting herself be guided back into the warmth of the hallway, Camilla shutting and locking the door behind them. "but at the same time, it will be so nice to have the house to ourselves again,"

"Until New Year's." Camilla pointed out, lips pursed. They were hosting a New Year's party the day after tomorrow - mostly just friends and family, though a few of Lucrezia's industry contacts would be there, as would some of Camilla's own. 

"Until New Year's." Lucrezia agreed, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend's cheek. "Have I told you yet how much I appreciate you agreeing to host, dear?"

"Once or twice," Camilla smiled, softly. "Just as long as your friend Leo doesn't cause any... Drama."

"Leo causing drama is a forgone conclusion, I'm afraid." Lucrezia sighed. "Zo should keep him in line, though - and from what I hear, Leo's been a touch more mature the past year or so, since their boy moved in with them."

"From what you've told me, he doesn't seem the type to be setting a good example." Camilla drawled. They headed, as one, to the kitchen, which had turned into quite the chaotic mess over the course of the past week or so. All the washing up had been done straight after Christmas dinner, of course, but there were still plates of leftovers and spare ingredients scattered around, as well as the dishes from tonight's dinner. Without needing to discuss it, they each took a job - Camilla slipped on her washing up gloves and sunk her hands into the sink, already full of hot, bubbly water, and Lucrezia picked up a tea towel and began to dry. 

"Well, I think it's more that he has two people at home to show off for, now, and so doesn't feel the need to do so in public _quite_ as much... Besides, whilst individually Zo and Nico both encourage him, when they're all together, Zo is more focused on keeping both his boys safe and out of trouble."

"He did seem nice," Camilla admitted, and Lucrezia looked up from the plate she was drying to smile, fondly, at her girlfriend. Camilla was always cautious around strangers - especially so around men - and to see her warm to one of Lucrezia's own friends was pleasant.

"He may look like a scoundrel, but his heart's in the right place," Lucrezia agreed. "He got into a lot of trouble as a child - his mother died when he was quite young, with all that entails, and it was a while before they found his uncle, and of course he met Leo when they were both teenagers and _that_ was never going to be a winning combination... But he cleaned up his act, finished school, dragged Leo kicking and screaming - sometimes literally - into rehab, and now Zo's a policeman and Leo's a well-known artist." She shrugged, slightly, gliding over to the cupboard to put away the plates she'd already finished drying. "There's more to the story than that, but it's not mine to tell. Just know that Zo is a good man, despite everything, and he would die for his friends,"

"Honestly darling," Camilla sniffed, moving onto the pans. "I already said he seems nice, you don't have to share any of his tragic backstory with me in order to make me like him," She teased, and Lucrezia let out a soft huff of laughter, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend on the cheek again gently, before continuing to dry up. They finished their task in an easy silence, the domesticity familiar, and Camilla made tea whilst Lucrezia tidied the rest of the kitchen, and ran a broom around.

"There," She said, leaning back against the counter beside Camilla in order to survey her kingdom. Despite her very traditional upbringing, Camilla was fairly useless in the kitchen, though a dab hand with a needle and thread in addition to being an adept interior designer. Lucrezia had always had a weakness for artsy types. "Much better,"

"Mmm, now we just have to tidy up the rest of the house," Camilla said, brightly, kissing Lucrezia lightly as she handed her a steaming cup of tea. Lucrezia sighed, thinking of the guest rooms upstairs - Amelia's would be a tip, of course, as would Aunt Anna's - Lucrezia's side of the family were not known for their tidiness. 

"Let's not worry about that now," She suggested, taking Camilla's free hand and leading her to the sitting room. "We have the house to ourselves for the first time in over a week, let's just sit for a while, watch a movie or something."

"Or something?" Camilla suggested, archly, raising one eyebrow, and Lucrezia laughed.

"If you've the energy for that after all the running around you've been doing lately, I applaud you, dear," She said, stroking a loose lock of dark hair away from Camilla's face. "But personally, I would rather veg out in front of the TV for a while, and then sleep until Sunday."

"Well, a lie in does sound wonderful," Camilla agreed, slightly wistfully. Lucrezia smiled as they settled down on the sofa, snuggling beneath the gorgeous crocheted blanket Aunt Anna had given them for Christmas - thankfully, it coordinated with their decor, because Lucrezia would hate to explain to her beloved aunt that they couldn't use the blanket that she'd clearly spent so many hours on, simply because it didn't match Camilla's aesthetic. 

"Then it's decided," Lucrezia yawned, letting herself slip down the sofa slightly, until she was at the right height to rest her head on Camilla's shoulder.

"At least until ten o'clock," Camilla added, "since that's when the refreshments for Sunday are being delivered." Lucrezia groaned, seeing her visions of a lazy Saturday spent relaxing in bed drift ever further away from her. "Don't worry, dear," Camilla said, soothingly, raising a hand to run through her girlfriend's long, dark hair. "After that, we just have to finish cleaning, and decorate, and collect the cake and the hors d'oeuvres..." She smiled, as Lucrezia groaned again, and pointedly turned up the volume on the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a fun fact for you: I picked a colour scheme for my dad's blanket that matched the colour scheme of the front room and then my mum redecorated entirely the week before Christmas. Worked out ok since the new decor is green and brown instead of cream and brown and so the blanket still matches but...
> 
> I didn't actually finish the blanket in time for Christmas. I still haven't. It's kinda stressing me out, but at least my dad is understanding about it.


	30. Winter Weather

“That fog’s cleared up,” Zo commented, almost absentmindedly, glancing out of the window as he did the post-dinner washing up.

“ _Finally_ ,” Nico let out a relieved sigh. “I hate travelling in fog, I was _this_ close,” He held up a hand, fingers pinched together, almost touching. “to asking Leo to divert the river away from the city, in the hope that we could avoid it in future.” Zo stared at his younger boyfriend for a long moment, expression fondly bemused.

“You’re fuckin’ weird,” He said, finally, shaking his head, voice warm with affection.

“Don’t call Leo weird,” Nico shot back, lightning quick, smile ever so slightly coy, and Zo let out a boisterous laugh, deep and merry, and dragged Nico in to kiss him as reward for his quick wit, leaving damp, bubbly handprints on the blond’s hips.

“Gross!” Vanessa said, cheerily, appearing in the doorway with a half-asleep toddler balanced on one hip and a stack of dirty plates and cups balanced, effortlessly, on the other arm – sometimes, Nico forgot that Vanessa had waitressed her way through university… Until she did something like this, and he was reminded, abruptly. “Anyway, Leo _is_ weird.”

“He is,” Zo agreed, flashing the redhead a grin and reaching out to take the crockery from her, with the same, easy grace – Nico stood clear, knowing that if he attempted such a thing, they’d end up with broken china scattered all over the floor – setting them down next to the sink before drying his hands on a nearby tea towel and stealing away the sleepy Giulio from his mother’s arms, cuddling the boy close. Nico tried not to feel put out – he’d get his cuddles later, after Vanessa had taken her son home and put him to bed. “and he’d probably actually attempt it, too,” He added, turning back to Nico and raising one finger warningly. “so you are not allowed to suggest it to him, okay?”

“Suggest what?” Leo asked, following Vanessa into the room with the remaining crockery – he held much less of it than she had, but the effort was enough to earn him an appreciative grin from Zo as Leo added it to the rest waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher, and then promptly stole his godson off of Zo.

“That you divert the river away from town so we don’t have as much fog in future.” Nico said, smiling sweetly when Zo scowled at him, mock annoyed and most disgruntled to have Giulio stolen away from him. Leo hummed, thoughtful, gaze going distant as he began to ponder the concept; Zo groaned and shook a finger at Nico, still frowning.

“Now look at what you did!” He complained, and turned back to his washing up. “I am _not_ bailing you out of prison _again_ , Leo.” He warned, making Vanessa and Nico (and Giulio, by extension) laugh, and Leo’s vague expression turn into a disappointed pout.

“You’re a terrible boyfriend,” He protested, and Nico sidled over, insinuating himself under Leo’s arm with the ease of long practise, expression easing into an ever-so-slightly smug smile as Leo automatically drew him into an embrace, arms settled low about his waist and head resting on one of Nico’s shoulders.

“So, about that river…” He murmured, just loud enough to be heard. Over by the sink, Zo gave another groan, and threw the sponge at his two laughing boyfriends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I kinda ran out of prompt ideas ok shut up


	31. Happy New Year!

Leo sat alone in the bustling sitting room of Camilla and Lucrezia's house. The room was beautifully, tastefully decorated, with twisting silver streamers dangling from the ceiling, mirrors and picture frames draped with glowing fairy lights. The artist in Leo was faintly envious; despite his lofty plans and artistic ideals, and Zo's grumblings about his aesthetics, somehow, their own house had been taken over with tinsel and lights, the tree covered with candy canes, foil wrapped chocolates, and the multitude of paper decorations that Leo had made with his godson over the course of the month. In contrast, Camilla and Lucrezia's house was undeniably elegant; their tree draped in silver tinsel and delicate, blown glass baubles, handpainted with glittering winter scenes. Leo sketched it idly in his notebook, waiting for his boyfriends to return; Zo had disappeared in an attempt to find the bathroom, whilst Nico had slipped off to refill their drinks. Leo almost wished Nico would ignore Zo's stern instructions about the amount of alcohol Leo was allowed tonight; Leo enjoyed socialising, thrived off attention, but a glass or two of wine would certainly make things easier, given the crowds.

When Lucrezia had called to invite them to her New Year's party, she'd assured them it would be a quiet affair - friends and family, a few coworkers. Lucrezia's idea of a _'quiet affair'_ was, clearly, rather different to Zo's, given his grumbling. Leo, who was tangentially in the same industry as Lucrezia, was pleasantly surprised at how tame it was. Nico, of course, was far more familiar with this kind of party, given his upbringing, and so didn't seem particularly fazed by the masses of people whose names and faces he didn't know and couldn't possibly be expected to remember. The three of them had staked out their place by the tree - two armchairs snuggled close together on either side of it, one of which Leo was curled in now, the other kept free by the warning drape of Zo's jacket, the half full wine glass on the low coffee table in front of the chairs a further indication that Leo wasn't alone.

"Lost your boys already, Leo?" Lucrezia teased, appearing from the crowd and perching on the arm of his chair. Leo rolled his head to the side to grin up her, easily flipping to a new page in his sketchbook, the familiar lines of her face flowing from his pencil.

"They've gone for drinks," He explained, sketching in the curls of her hair, the fine tracery of her eyelashes and the coy curve of her smile. She shook her head slightly in fond indulgence as he tore the sketch from his notebook and passed it up to her. "Leaving me all alone, abandoned." He added, flopping back dramatically, draping himself across her thighs.

"Ridiculous man," she teased, carding her fingers through his hair.

"Moving in on my man, Donati?" Zo's voice was a low, familiar tease, and Leo turned to smile slyly at his boyfriend, without ever raising his head from the cushion of Lucrezia's lap.

"Well, she is _much_ prettier than you, darling."

"Lies," Zo grinned, rolling his shoulders in a way that would seem almost absent, if it weren't for the way it drew attention to the breadth of them, the flex of muscles beneath his tight shirt.

"He has a point," Lucrezia added, tugging lightly on a lock of Leo's hair in recrimination. Leo pouted. "We're at least as pretty as each other." She offered.

"I'm prettier," Zo said, in a stage whisper, and Lucrezia let out one of her charming, tinkling laughs.

"I think you'll find _I'm_ the prettiest, anyway." Leo decided, and sat up in his chair just in time to extend grabby hands towards Nico, who glanced at Zo's stern expression before handing Leo the glass of plain coke in his hands, keeping the wine for himself, despite his impassioned declaration after the reindeer/moose/elk incident that he was never going to drink again.

"Good boy," Zo murmured, and Nico went slightly pink - moreso, when Lucrezia raised an eyebrow at the interaction.

"It's nearly midnight, boys," She announced, sliding off the arm of the chair. She wore a classic black dress with a slit that went almost to her hip, which hitched even higher with her movement. Leo's fingers itched again, as his eyes followed the line of smooth, golden brown thigh.

"Slag," Zo said, fondly, though he'd looked too - Lucrezia smirked at both of them, and Nico was examining the tree almost pointedly, his mouth a tight, embarrassed line, cheeks flushed.

"Somethings never change," Lucrezia drawled, leaning down to pinch Leo's cheek briefly, before exchanging air kisses with Zo. "Five minute warning," She added, then disappeared back into the crowd.

"Alright," Zo sighed, digging in his pocket for his phone. "Pick a number,"

"Eight." Nico suggested.

"I'll be nine, then." Leo offered.

"Seven." Zo agreed, and flicked open a random number generator. He tapped the button twice, and hummed. "Seven and nine," He announced. Nico pouted.

"Do you want to roll again?" Leo offered; Nico shook his head, reluctantly.

"We agreed this way would be fairest."

"We did," Zo said, approvingly, and leant down to give Nico a brief kiss. "And you'll get yours straight after," He promised, and Nico leant against Zo's side, taking a sip of his wine, appeased by this promise. Across the room, Lucrezia stepped up onto a stool, one hand holding Camilla's for balance. The room fell silent in a slow ripple from where she stood, conversations easing off into whispers as everyone turned towards her. She smiled, calm and regal, yet dangerous, like an ancient queen gazing out across her loyal subjects.

"I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for coming," She said, "friends, family, coworkers - thank you all for a wonderful year; I hope next year brings you all you all the happiness you could wish for." Zo turned his head to look to Nico, leaning comfortably against his side, then extended his other arm to coax Leo into a mirroring embrace. "It's one minute to midnight now," Lucrezia continued, glancing at her phone. "So if you'll all join me for the countdown..." She turned and allowed Camilla to help her step down from the stool, movements confident despite the pencil thin heels of her shoes. "Ten... Nine... Eight..."

"Seven... Six... Five... Four..." The crowd joined in, and Zo coiled his arm tighter around Nico's shoulders even as Leo, grinning, raised a hand to curl around Zo's jaw, tugging him down into a kiss.

"Too early," Nico complained, as the crowd continued.

"Three... Two... One... Happy New Year!" Outside, there were the faint sounds of fireworks, barely audible over the screams and cheers of the guests. Lucrezia and Camilla were kissing, as were many couples scattered throughout the room. Leo pulled back from kissing Zo, and then, laughing, darted in to draw Nico into a kiss before Zo could get there.

"Oi," Zo complained, though any displeasure was easily outweighed by his own laughter, as Leo flashed him a wink and flipped him off, all without letting go of Nico, who looked rather content to stay right where he was.

"Better kiss him, Nico," Leo said, after another long moment, whilst everyone around them had begun to collect into little circles, hands linked, to sing Auld Lang Syne. "He'll just sulk all evening otherwise."

"Yeah," Zo agreed, seriously, although they all knew that he was the _least_ likely amongst them to sulk over anything.

"Well, if he's going to _sulk_ ," Nico said, just as solemn, and then grinned before flinging his arms around Zo's neck and letting the older man practically lift him off his feet, both of them smiling too much for a real kiss, whilst Leo draped his arms around both their waists, content to wait for them to finish.

"Happy New Year, darlings," He murmured. "I love you both,"

"Mmmm, love you both too," Zo agreed, kissing Nico's nose and Leo's cheek in turns.

"You're both saps, and I want more wine." Nico said, seriously, and then wrinkled his nose as Zo teasingly kissed it again, Leo mimicking the action a moment later. "Okay, okay," He laughed, as they took turns scattering kisses across his flushed face, two pairs of arms curled around his waist, keeping him from squirming out of reach. "I love you both too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have a wonderful year surrounded by people you love and who love you.
> 
> Or alternatively, with plenty of delicious food and soft blankets, if that's more your thing.
> 
> Or both!
> 
> I've actually really enjoyed doing this whole 31 days thing even if it was pretty challenging at times (those times being literally every day I hadn't already written something for) and it's definitely put me back in the mood for writing so hopefully at some point I will actually finish some of the other DvDs fics I've got stashed away
> 
> But probably not
> 
> Anyway I promise I will think very seriously about coming back later in the new year to check for errors, once I've had a chance to recharge from the chaos of Christmas and also sleep off what I drank tonight


End file.
